The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion
by Jason Tandro
Summary: My novelization of The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion.  The story features nine unique heroes and a storyteller  one character from each race , each person tackling a different aspect of life in Cyrodiil, ensuring a very complete retelling of the game.
1. Chapter 1: Reign of the Septims

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

By: Jason Tandro

Chapter I: Reign of the Septims

**Frostcrag Spire…**

_23 Frost Fall, 4E21_

Aywin sat in her favorite chair. Her blue velvet dress meshed perfectly with the cushions of the chair, and one might mistake her for merely another beautiful piece of artwork in the perfectly decorated room.

Her guests, a traveling merchant group, had begged her entrance to escape the terrible snowstorm that had blown in from Skyrim. They were a shabby lot, a Nord, a Bosmer and a particularly foul-tempered Khajitt who only stopped fuming after being offered a glass of Tamika Vintage 415.

Aywin herself was Altmer, or as the Nord insisted on calling her, "High Elf". Aywin did not much like this term: not only because of its inaccuracy, but because of the arrogant sound to it. "High Elf" was just another term that was used to further separate the already tense relationships between the races, and she abhorred it, but understanding the common usage of it, did not mention this to the Nord.

After she had offered the men dinner she set herself back in this chair and resumed looking over the old book which she had been reading. This caught the attention of the Bosmer, who asked:

"What are you reading, Madam?"

Aywin smiled. "This? This is a tale from the final days of the Third Era."

The young men looked at each other. Had they not heard the story?

"Surely you have heard of the Oblivion Crisis?" Aywin asks.

"Yes, but so much of what you hear cannot be trusted," the Khajitt says, shaking his head. "Such things just do not happen."

"Ah," Aywin smiles. "Ordinarily they do not. But those ruins you see all around Cyrodiil were not built by man. The statue of the avatar of Akatosh in the Imperial City was not sculpted. The Order we have in the fourth era did not come about artificially."

"What we know is that Emperor Uriel Septim the VII died, leaving no heir. An enlightened rule began with the Elder Council now acting as a Republic. Beyond that-" But the Bosmer was cut off.

"Fairy Tales?" Aywin asks smiling. "I was there, many years ago at the end. I saw it with my own eyes. As you have nowhere else to go, perhaps you would like to hear?"

The Bosmer and Nord nodded, and the Khajitt found his seat again.

"There were many heroes in that time. Many people willing to do what was right, and what needed to be done. As I recall there were nine of them," Aywin smiled. "And one of them would… or should have been… remembered for all time as the greatest hero in all of Tamriel."

**Imperial City Dungeon…**

_27 Last Seed, 3E433_

Light creeps into the prison cell, and Ignin's eyes slowly opened. His initial thoughts were those of panic. He knew nothing of his surroundings. And as time granted he slowly grew more concerned as he realized that he knew nothing of himself either. His head ached and he looked near his bedroll and saw the source of his confusion. A decent sized stone had fallen as he slept and, based on the bump on his forehead, it must have hit him.

He tried to remember anything. He knew his name, Ignin. He knew that this must be the dungeon in the Imperial Palace, but how he knew that was a mystery to him. As he tried to recall more, he heard a sharp hiss from a man in the opposite cell.

"Rise and shine, Imperial," the man called.

The man was Valen Dreth, a Dark Elf who had gotten himself into some considerable trouble, it had seemed, and whose only cling to sanity was thrown away many years ago. He spent his time mocking his fellow prisoners, and Ignin was no exception. Ignin had gathered something interesting from this; he knew that he was an Imperial.

"How is it, eh?" Valen laughed. "Can't remember a thing, eh? Not even that you're about to be executed, eh?"

Ignin rushed to the bars to get a look at his tormentor. Valen stood his ground, reveling in his own cruelty.

"That's right, my friend. You're going to die here," Valen continued to laugh, but suddenly stopped as he heard a commotion upstairs. Ignin heard it too. There was a loud crash and the sound of many swords and spears clashing. The battle ended and suddenly footsteps began moving down the stairs into the dungeon.

"Oh listen. The guards are coming. For you, hehehehehehe," Valen laughed monstrously and tucked himself away in a corner of his cell.

Ignin listened, and could make out the faint conversation of the approaching soldiers.

"My sons… they are dead," an old man cried.

"We don't yet know that, sire," said a woman's voice.

"No, I know it in my heart. They are dead," the old man continued.

"How did assassin's get inside the palace walls?" asked another man.

"They must have had somebody working on the inside," another replied.

"We must get help to others upstairs," the old man said in an authoritative voice.

The woman declined this order. "They can handle themselves. My job right now is to get you to safety."

The group rounded the corner and was now in sight of Ignin. The old man was dressed in a long ornamental robe and had short brown hair, which was graying at the ends. He was escorted by two men and a woman, who all wore battle armor of incredible make. They carried Akaviri Katanas, which Ignin recognized as a symbol of the Imperial bodyguards, the Blades. Minor details were coming back, but not everything. Ignin feared it would be a long time before he remembered anything.

The woman looked at him and raised her katana to the bars. "What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits!"

"Usual mix-up with the Watch… I," one of the guards tried to explain but the woman cut him off.

"Never mind that now, there's no time. Stand back prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way," the woman ordered. Ignin was too stunned and confused to do anything except obey her orders. He moved back into the corner where a table and stool were. He sat in the stool obediently and kept his hands on the table as a sign of submission.

The larger guard opened the cell door with a key. He seemed empathetic to Ignin's position and reassured him. "Just stay there and you won't get hurt."

The group entered the cell and the woman issued another order. "Lock it behind us. It will at least buy us some time."

As the old man passed by Ignin he let out a gasp. The guards faced Ignin with their katanas drawn, but the old man put his hands in front of them. He walked over to Ignin, which made the woman highly uncomfortable.

"I've seen you before," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Ignin asked.

"You were the one I saw in my dream. Then the signs were right. This is the day," the man spoke in a weak, tired voice. "Gods give me strength."

"I beg your pardon," Ignin said. "But who are you?"

The guards let out a gasp of indignation, but the old man smiled. "I am Emperor Uriel Septim VII. The Emperor of Tamriel, chosen by the Nine to rule." His words became more philosophical. "Do you believe in fate?"

Ignin shook his head. "Men forge their own destinies. Fate is a myth created by those who refuse to take responsibilities for their own actions."

Emperor Septim laughed, and the larger guard let out a light chuckle, which stopped when the woman gave him a sharp look. The woman opened a secret door in the northeastern corner, which was disguised to look like the face of the wall. The wall sunk into the ground, revealing a massive cavern system.

"Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side," she then looked at the Ignin. Ignin dodged her gaze and returned to the Emperor.

"What was I imprisoned for?" Ignin demanded.

The Emperor waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. That is not what you will be remembered for. I would say it was Fate that brought you to this cell that we might meet, but you clearly wouldn't accept that as an answer. But since you believe in forging your own destiny, you should come with us. Or do you intend to serve a sentence for a crime that you don't even know that you committed?"

Ignin shook his head. He didn't know what was going on, but he would not be staying here, that was for sure.

"Looks like this is your lucky day, prisoner," said the large man. "Just stay out of our way."

"You are?" Ignin asked.

"We are the Blades. I am Baurus. That," Baurus pointed at the smaller guard. "Is Glenroy. And this is our Captain," Baurus moved aside and let the Captain decide whether or not to reveal her name.

She grudgingly walked up to Ignin and gave a polite nod. "Captain Renault of the Blades. If the Emperor wills it, we are at your service as well."

The entourage made their way into the caverns. Ignin decided it would be best to stay next to the Emperor and the Blades took the lead, with Baurus staying in the rear. It was clear the Baurus, while he didn't trust Ignin, was the most willing to give him a chance. He even handed him a torch.

"Here," he said. "You may as well make yourself useful."

The caverns quickly turned into a massive underground building, which seemed to be based in Ayleid design. White marble structures with long passages that seemed to stretch on for miles. They came across one very narrow passage and Renault ordered the party to halt.

"The air doesn't feel right," she said. "Weapons out."

Ignin had nothing to use as a weapon, but he held out his torch like a shield. Suddenly, several robed men in bright red garments jumped down from an overhanging ledge. They attacked so suddenly that Captain Renault had barely enough time to raise her sword.

It was over in an instant. Renault's blade was sticking through the back of her attacker.

"Well done, Captain!" Baurus shouted. The Captain did not respond and neither she nor her attacker seemed to move.

Glenroy shouted. "Captain!"

Baurus, Ignin and the Emperor noticed what caught Glenroy's attention. Renault had a similar wound to her attacker. In that moment, both of them fell to the ground. In a frenzied rage, Glenroy, Baurus and the Emperor rushed at the others and cut them down in brutal haste while Ignin rushed over to Renault.

He tried to help her, but it was too late. She was dead the moment the blade had cut her. He pushed off the attacker and pulled the blade out of her chest. The battle raged on as more of the red-garbed assassins seemed to pour out of the walls. Baurus, Glenroy and the Emperor moved to the other side of a steel grate and locked it behind them.

"Wait!" Ignin shouted. But it was no use. They were already gone and the assassins were following them, taking side passages in an attempt to reach them.

Ignin did not know what to do. He cleaned off Renault's katana and picked it up.

"Forgive me, but I need a weapon," Ignin said as he moved to take his chance with one of the side passages.

**Bruma Mage's Guild…**

_27 Last Seed, 3E433_

Alessia sat nervously, tapping her fingers together. Her short blonde hair was perfect, save a small bead of sweat running down the side. The woman in front of her, Jeanne Frasoric, was a woman Alessia had known almost all her life.

Here she sat, a young Breton girl of barely 18, and today was the most important day of her life. The day she would either be accepted, or declined, entrance to the prestigious Mage's Guild.

Having spent most of her life in Bruma, in a quaint little cabin that had belonged to her parents, she had gotten to know Jeanne quite well. And Jeanne had known her from infancy.

The offspring of a Nord father and Breton mother made her quite an "odd mix" as Jeanne put it. She had the prodigious magical leanings of a Breton and the tough resolve of a Nord. These twin virtues made her a "worthy candidate". But it all came down to this moment. Jeanne liked her, certainly, but she was also bound by the code of the Mage's Guild.

"You are a highly qualified candidate," Jeanne explained. "You have done magic in your childhood that some of our associates are just learning. You are well balanced in the colleges, not really favoring one over another. Yes, Alessia, you are a very good candidate."

Alessia's heart quickened. There seemed to be an impending "but", and Alessia was waiting for it to fall.

"However you must realize that this is a much more complicated process than you might think. I can make you an Associate of the Mage's Guild and I do so with no hesitation whatsoever. But to become a true member of the guild you need recommendations from every Guild Hall in Cyrodiil. Bruma, Chorrol, Cheydinhal, Leyawin, Bravil, Skingrad, Kvatch and Anvil. It is no easy pilgrimage," Jeanne explained.

"I am ready for it," Alessia nodded fervently.

"Very well then. I hereby make you an Associate of the Mage's Guild," Jeanne said, handing Alessia a small book entitled _Mage's Guild Charter. _"Now as for your… recommendation. Your friend J'skar has gone missing."

"Missing?" Alessia asked, disturbed.

"Oh I'm sure he's around her somewhere. Volanaro just says that a spell backfired, but if anybody from the Council were to show up here it would look very bad for me. So please, can you go talk to Volanaro and see what you can do?" Jeanne sounded almost piteous the way she was pleading, and Alessia was not about to refuse a request after what Jeanne had done for her.

Alessia walked out of her office and down two flights of stairs to the living quarters. The second she walked in she heard the sound of two men laughing hysterically. As she opened the door, she only saw one: Volanaro.

"Alessia!" Volanaro smiled giving his old friend a big hug. "I heard that you're in the guild now! Congratulations!"

"Well apparently I have to go get recommendations-"

"Oh that's not as big a deal as Jeanne makes it. The Imperium is safe enough. Tch," Volanaro scoffed. "I tell you, with all due respect to our wonderful leader, she couldn't cast her way out of a paper sack."

"She wants me to find out what happened to J'skar. Apparently a spell backfired?" Alessia asked, a sly look on her face.

Volanaro scratched the back of his head and looked away. "Well…"

And in an instant he raised his hands over the air in front of him and the tall Khajitt J'skar appeared right before Alessia's eyes.

"I hear you've been looking for me!" J'skar laughed. Alessia rolled her eyes. "Oh please don't be mad. It was only a bit of fun. "

"How are you two going to pass the time when I'm away at University?" Alessia sighed lovingly.

"I was thinking about stealing Jeanne's manual of spell craft. This prank was getting boring anyways," Volanaro laughed.

Alessia hugged Volanaro and J'skar. "Take care of yourselves."

**Chorrol, The Grey Mare…**

27 Last Seed 3E433

Davion took a large gulp from a pewter tankard. Beside him sat his Dunmer friend Modryn Oreyn. Along the row at the small bar was Viranus Donton and a few more members of the Chorrol chapter of the Fighter's Guild.

"I can't believe he's dead," Viranus sighed, refusing to let the tear hanging on the edge of his face tip forward into the glass he was holding.

"Vitellus was a good man," Modryn said. "One of the best warriors I ever had the privilege to work with."

Davion had known him too. The two of them had gone way back. He had moved to Chorrol back in 427 and Vitellus was the first man he met. They shared a pint at this very bar. Vitellus told him all about Chorrol and Davion told Vitellus all about the Imperial City. Redguards, he had told Vitellus, were almost expected to join the army because of their natural skill with weapons. And that's when Vitellus had mentioned the Fighter's Guild.

But the career never appealed to Davion, and seemed to appeal to him even less the more the evening passed. But the two remained friends throughout the six years that he'd been here. And now he was dead.

The night passed with the men all making elaborate toasts to Vitellus's memory. Oreyn and an Orc began to sing loudly (and horribly off-key on the part of the Orc) lines from _A Less Rude Song:_

_It's an invention of bards_

_That Bretons and Redguards_

And at this Modryn felt the need to point at Davion.

_Have more than some staid fun_

_And suffer deviant fornication._

_For the most of madness, not the least,_

_The wise debaucher heads out east._

_Where your once steely reserve is now merely tinned,_

_You'll find it all in Morrowind._

As the song continued, Viranus succumbed to his tears and excused himself to the back. A man Davion only knew as Eduard followed him. Modyrn and the Orc finished the song in grand fashion

_If you find yourself with unkind kinship with your kin_

_You'll find it all in Morrowind!_

The bar applauded and Modryn took a seat next to Davion.

"I realize this may be a poor time to bring this up, but the raid cost us fifteen good men. Vitellus was one of them. We need somebody now more than ever who can handle a blade," Modryn began.

"I'm a farmer," Davion chuckled, though he did not find the situation amusing at all. "If there's a line of work in the Fighter's Guild for a man with a pitchfork than I'll gladly take a contract. Otherwise I'm not interested."

"Please, Davion. I've seen you practice. You came here because your father passed on and left you Arborwatch. That is right next to the Fighter's Guild. Do you think I haven't seen you practicing outback every night just after sunset. You know your way around a claymore, better than some… better than many of the men I've met," Modryn said.

Davion shrugged. "An old man can dream, can't he?"

"You don't have to dream. Please. I don't mean to be insensitive but I know that Vitellus wanted you to join more than anything. The pay is good. And upkeep on Arborwatch must be very expensive," Modryn said.

Davion did not much like being told about his financial situation at a time like this, but Modryn had a point. And besides, perhaps if Davion had been there with him, Vitellus may not have…

"Fine," Davion said, standing up and leaving. "You're paying for my tab though."

Modryn chuckled warmly and waved farewell to Davion.

**Imperial City Waterfront…**

_27 Last Seed 3E433_

News of the attack on the Emperor and his sons had not yet reached the ears of the people down on the waterfront. It was a peaceful, but hot, summer day with the poor citizens going about their day-to-day routines; blissfully ignorant of this tragic news.

In particular the Khajitt woman R'darra sat on the docks trying to tempt a cool breeze. She would go swimming, but her fur would hate her for it.

"You should quit complaining," one of her beggar friends said, walking behind her. "In Elsywer, the temperatures get much hotter than this."

"I know," R'darra sighed. Her flax tunic was itching her, her eyes were watering from the suppressive humidity, but other than that, things were going good so far today.

Suddenly two guardsmen walked up to her. Behind them was a tall man with golden blonde hair wearing a bright set of steel armor.

"The prey approaches," R'darra hissed.

"Ah," the beggar said, clicking his fangs in a sort of laugh. "The Good Captain, Hieronymus Lex. To what do we owe this most esteemed honor?"

"That's enough from you, cat," Lex cursed. "You have nothing we want anyways."

"There were three wasted words in that sentence," the beggar snorted. "I have nothing. You took my home away, every Septim that I gather you take in 'taxes'. Were it not for some kind people I would be dead by now."

Lex smirked cruelly. "Are you referring to the Gray Fox?"

The beggar rolled his eyes. "But Captain, such things don't exist. You're a little old to be believing in fairy tales."

"I think you're right," Lex nodded. "I'll have to bury this fairy tale for good." And with that, Lex turned to R'darra. "As it happens I would like a word with you."

"Of course it does," R'darra hissed. "What is it?"

"We got word from Palonirya in the Market District that you may have run off with some of her jewelry," Lex said.

"That sounds like an accusation," R'darra grinned maliciously. "Unfortunately as you can see I am as bare as my friend here."

"So you have already fenced the stolen merchandise, don't play dumb with me," Lex cursed. "Mark my words, R'darra, you will slip one of these days and I will catch you at it. And then I will make sure you spend the rest of the days in the Imperial Prison!"

"Please throw me in there now. Food, water, a roof over my head and I'm certain it's cooler in there too," R'darra cackled. "I wish I had stolen that poor woman's jewels just so you'd have an excuse."

Lex scowled and then turned on the spot, his two soldiers marching behind him back towards the city proper.

"So did you steal from Palonirya?" The beggar asked.

R'darra reached down into the water beside her and tugged on a string. Within moments a small bag broke the surface. R'darra set the bag on the dock and opened it, revealing two silver necklaces and a fat ruby ring.

"Not bad, huh? The Gray Fox himself couldn't do better… assuming he existed," R'darra sighed.

The beggar smiled.

"What?" R'darra asked.

"Come to the Garden of Dareloth tonight at midnight."

**Leyawin County Jail…**

27 Last Seed 3E433

Azeg-Rael sat against the wall, contemplating his future. For an Argonian, there was no hope of leaving the Leyawin jail alive. The Countess had always had a terrible prejudice, believing that the noble race of the Black Marsh were nothing more than common thugs.

There was a bitter irony in Azeg-Rael contributing to this stereotype, but he would atone for the crime to his society at a later time. Besides, the man who he killed had deserved to die.

He remembered it. The time he'd spent as a hatchling, playing in the streets of Leyawin. His father and mother owned the now abandoned house in the middle of town. And he was there. The mean Breton who always kept harassing them for money.

With age, he gained perspective. In his formative, young adult years, his family was forced to leave Leyawin and move to Bravil by this man and the Countess. The Count of Bravil welcomed them with open arms. This was back when he was a respected man, and a powerful tournament swordsman; before he let himself sink into a drunken stupor.

When he was an adult he was told by his mother why that had been forced to leave Leyawin. This man was a moneylender. He had lent funds to his parents to purchase that house in Leyawin; no small feat at 7,000 septims. But then after his father paid back the last bit of interest, this man reported his father and mother to the Countess.

He said the house was rightfully his! And the deed was most certainly in his name; Azeg-Rael's father agreeing to this as terms of collateral. Azeg-Rael could not understand why the man had done it. His mother told him that it was simple. The man made his money that way, preying on Argonians whom the Countess would instantly side against.

After his mother was infected with Serpiginous Dementia, Azeg-Rael knew her time was almost up. When the day finally came, he laid her to rest and swore that he would avenge her and his father.

And so he traveled back to County Leyawin, broke down the door of his old house and before the now old man knew what was happening, Azeg-Rael thrust a steel dagger into his chest.

The guard were there within seconds. Azeg-Rael didn't care. He had done what he'd come to do. He didn't even resist arrest. When the Countess told him that the fine for murder was 15,000 septims (quite a larger sum than she would put before a fellow Imperial) Azeg-Rael laughed and said he'd much prefer the cell.

She was only too happy to oblige. And so now here he sat, waiting for death to come.

Suddenly the air around him grew cold and he felt a shadow approach. He turned to his cell door and saw nothing. He moved away from the door and began to look around his cell. He was certain somebody was here.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a pick being jammed in a lock. The tumblers fell and the door opened. Azeg-Rael raised his fists and suddenly a man in a black robe and hood appeared from thin air in front of him.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," the man smiled. "That is good. You will need a clear conscience for what I am about to propose."

Azeg-Rael did not lower his fists. "Explain yourself. Now."

"In time, child," the man nodded. "All in good time. First, an introduction. My name is Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. And you… you are a cold-blooded killer. Capable of taking life without mercy or remorse. The Night Mother has been watching, and she is most impressed. And so I come to you with an offer to join our rather unique family."

Lucien shut the cell door quickly and disappeared. A guard came round the corner and looked through the bars at Azeg-Rael.

"Dinner, maggot." He said, shoving a small tin with a half-loaf of bread through the door. And without another word he walked down the stone corridors and was gone.

Lucien reappeared in front of Azeg-Rael nodding in an all-knowing way. Azeg-Rael was not sure what to make of this man, but if it meant a way out, he was prepared to listen to whatever he had to say.

"Please continue, Mr. Lachance," Azeg-Rael said.

"Ah. I find your etiquette refreshing. On the road north of here, halfway between the Imperial City and Bravil you will find the Inn of Ill Omen. Inside is a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Now I present you with a gift."

Lucien pulled out a small black dagger, the edges lightly touched with gold. It was a very ornate piece of work and had an almost ceremonial feel to it.

"It is a virgin blade, and it thirsts for blood," Lucien said. "Take this Blade of Woe and kill Rufio in the name of the Night Mother."

Azeg-Rael nodded. "Rufio will die by my hand. But how am I to get out of here?"

Suddenly there was a muffled cry from the guard who had been there a moment ago and the sound of armor hitting the floor.

"We have arranged that for you," Lucien smiled.

**Leyawin County Hall…**

27 Last Seed 3E433

Borin gro-Kromlock was not sure what he was doing here. He was friendly with the Count, often doing free-lance work as a bouncer during his parties, or assisting the Watch deal with drunkards at the Five Claws.

But this was something he wasn't sure how to deal with. Apparently, a fellow Orc named Mazoga had been pestering the Count, but he didn't want to send her away. He just wanted to know what she wanted.

But she refused to speak to anybody except the Count, so what good could he do? Making his way towards the foyer, he could have sworn he saw the door to the dungeons open and shut… but nobody was there. Must have been a trick of the eyes.

And standing there in the main hall was this Mazoga. At least she was the only Orc in the area. She wore a fine set of steel armor, with an iron long sword resting at her side.

"Are you Mazoga?" Borin asked.

Mazoga stared him down. "I'll only speak with the Count."

"The Count sent me," Borin responded just as adamantly.

"Hm. If the Count sent you then I guess I'll speak with you. I'll get right to it then. I need to get to Fisherman's Rock. Do you know where that is?"

Borin thought for a moment. He remembered speaking with his Argonian friend Weebum-Na about it. Weebum-Na would often hunt in that area.

"As a matter of fact I do… It's a short while north of here," Borin said.

"Then take me there!" Mazoga demanded.

"Why?" Borin asked, suspiciously.

"Listen buddy, I'm a knight okay. I've come to take care of a bandit that's hanging out at Fisherman's Rock."

"Listen lady, I've got problems of my own, okay?"

"Lady? Lady? Don't you know how to address a knight? Call me Sir Mazoga."

Borin laughed. "Sir? But you're a wo-…. Never mind. Okay fine. I'll take you down to Fisherman's Rock, Sir Mazoga."

"Good," Mazoga nodded.

Borin led the way out of the county hall and within minutes they were on the road north, parallel to the Niben Bay. The high grass and swamp lands were always hot and muggy, but especially this summer.

"So who's this bandit?" Borin asked, lifting his war-hammer in anticipation.

"A real creep named Mogens Wind-Shifter," Mazoga explained. "He usually hangs out with a posse so this might be a little tough."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Borin chuckled effortlessly swinging his hammer to knock a small tree out of their way.

Fisherman's Rock was a small camp only a few hours north of Leyawin. Mazoga and Borin hid behind a large tree to spy on the situation. There were four men, and Mazoga pointed out a large, shirtless Nord as Mogens.

"Okay listen. I'm going to speak with Mogens first. Don't attack them until we're done talking alright. No smashing, no decapitations," Mazoga instructed.

"Ah. Talking, _then _smashing and decapitations?" Borin chuckled.

"Well maybe," Mazoga replied, and for the first time she smiled. "You know how it goes."

The two approached the bandits. The three raised their weapons, but Mogens raised his hand ordering them to hold.

"Mogens Wind-Shifter," Mazoga said.

"That's me. What do you want?" Mogens asked.

"Just to let you know what's about to happen to you. You killed my friend. Bet you never thought I'd find you," Mazoga said.

"I don't know what you're talking about lady, I never attacked nobody," Mogens responded although this didn't sound terribly convincing.

"Don't play dumb with me. You killed Ra'Vindra, my best friend. And now I'm going to kill you," Mazoga shouted.

Mogens lifted his dagger but Mazoga was too quick, slashing his chest with her long sword before he could barely move. Borin rushed in smashing the head of a bandit who was attempting to shoot Mazoga with a bow. Mazoga spun around and kicked down a third man, knocking him to the ground and running her blade through his stomach. The fourth man fled, but slipped on a wet rock and knocked his head against a nearby tree, knocking him out cold.

"At last it's done," Mazoga sighed. "My friend, Ra'Vindra caught on to what these thugs were doing. To stop her from reporting them to the Watch, they killed her. On that day, I became a knight and swore a knight's Oath. Now that I'm done with that, I'll have to think of some other good deeds."

Borin nodded. "Glad I could help."

"You did help, and I do appreciate it," Mazoga smiled. "Come on, let's go back to Leyawin."

**Aleswell Settlement…**

_27 Last Seed 3E433_

Saryn was a quiet woman of nature. Part of this was due to her Bosmer blood; the Wood Elves had always been at peace with the world around them. But most of this was due to her lifestyle. Rather than bother finding a place to settle down, she had made the most of being a true "adventurer." Traveling all across Tamriel, doing odd jobs and sleeping at inns.

Having seen so much of the world had, she thought, made her quite jaded in its ways. However, something had happened not moments ago that she had never seen before.

She was attacked by an invisible wolf.

She felt the wolf approach her back, and turned to meet it with her bow drawn, but there had been nothing there. But she could have sworn something was there; a thought that only intensified when she heard the wolf bark rather loudly.

She put an arrow in where she'd best guessed the bark to be coming from and then as the wolf let out a death cry it appeared before her. This was strange. Animals could not use magic, and she could not imagine why any wizard would bother turning one invisible.

And now she stood in the middle of a settlement, and while she heard people going about their daily lives, she saw nobody.

"Um, hello?" She asked near a humming farm worker.

"Look, I'm busy right now. Don't bug me," the invisible man hissed.

Saryn walked away, painfully aware that this was not some hallucination or nightmare. She walked into the inn, hoping to find at least one visible person, but she was greeted with a less than gracious salutation from the invisible innkeeper.

"Oh, hello. What do you want?" The innkeeper asked.

"Pardon me," Saryn said. "I did not mean to intrude, but I was looking for a place to lodge the night and… well what has happened to you all?"

"Oh the invisibility. Sometimes we forget that we can't see each other. We've gotten rather accustomed to it, sadly," Diram groaned. "It was that damned magician Ancotar. He had always caused a bit of trouble with his magical experiments, but nothing so bad as this. Seems he recently created a highly potent spell of invisibility and we were all caught in its effect."

"So why does nobody go ask him for counter-spell?" Saryn asked.

"He's down the hill from us in Fort Caractacus and with all the invisible predators it's rather dangerous. Besides, he's such a bungler the spell probably would make our lives even worse, somehow. You're welcome to go have a chat with him if you think it will help," Diram sighed.

Saryn opened her satchel. She was dismayed to find only a few gold coins left.

"Very well, I'm on it," Saryn nodded.

She left the inn and looked out over the hill. Sure enough, she saw a large old fort not even a half-mile from the town. She ran down the hill to the fort's entrance and heard the sound of alchemical instruments bubbling.

Making her way up the central tower via stone ramparts she heard a man cry:

"Oh please not now! I don't want whatever it is you're selling!"

"Are you Ancotar?" Saryn asked, not entirely sure where she should be looking.

"Yes, I am, and I'm rather busy if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry, but I fear you may have made a mistake," Saryn explained. "I'm here because of the people of Aleswell."

"Aleswell? They kicked me out. What could they possibly want with me?" Ancotar asked more confused than annoyed now.

"Your spell of invisibility. It apparently affected them as well," Saryn replied.

"Oh it did? Goodness gracious me. I had tampered with the formula a bit, yes. Increasing the power to increase the longevity of the spell you see. It will wear off though, eventually," Ancotar nodded.

"Eventually?" Saryn asked.

"In about a year or two. Maybe a little more," Ancotar explained.

"The people of Aleswell don't want to wait that long," Saryn said. "Isn't there a counter-spell?"

Saryn could not see Ancotar, but she could tell by the sound of his voice that he was frowning.

"Hm. Yes as a matter of fact I DID create one. Stumbled across it while inventing the thing. Are you sure they don't want to stay like that? I mean I find being invisible quite refreshing. Nobody… well _almost _nobody bothers me. But if you are sure, just take this scroll and read it in the center of the village."

And suddenly a scroll appeared out of thin air and floated in front of Saryn.

"Um, thank you," Saryn nodded.

"Yes, yes. Sometimes the best thank you is leaving me be and telling nobody where you found me," Ancotar insisted.

Saryn bowed slightly in thanks and made her way back uphill. Arriving back in the village she looked around for the spot that would be closest to the center of town, and figured that the farm where she had been earlier should do the trick.

She read the strange foreign words from the scroll and a bright fog enveloped the town. When the fog settled, she could see everybody. And they could see each other. The townsfolk began celebrating their returned visibility and applauding Saryn.

Diram Serethi walked out of the inn with a pint of mead.

"Thank you so much, friend!" He smiled. "Here, please spend the night at my inn. You always stay free at my place."

Saryn took the pint and made her way into the inn.

**Chorrol, Northern Goods and Trades…**

_27 Last Seed 3E433_

Will was a large man. Nord by birth, merchant by choice, but large by a combination of the two. His slick tongue had made him a master negotiator and fine selection in wares from his shop in Anvil had made him a reasonably wealthy man.

He was on his yearly trip to the cities in Cyrodiil to gather goods and make trades as necessary. Always good to keep track of your competitors and make purchases to keep the money flowing. Stagnation would simply lead to decay and decline, and Will had many more years left in him.

He was greeted at the door by an enchanting young Argonian woman named Dar-Ma.

"It is good to see you," she smiled. "I love meeting new people. You must be that merchant my mother was talking about."

Will nodded. "Yes, I'm here to talk to her about her clothing line."

"She will be right with you," Dar-Ma nodded. "I have to be going. I've an errand to run down in Hackdirt. I should be back before dark though."

"Right with you" was apparently not the same phrase in Black Marsh as it was in Skyrim. It was three hours before he even saw Seed-Neeus, the proprietor, who informed him that he should go wait at the Grey Mare until she was ready for him.

He enjoyed a pint and got a chuckle out of a drunken Orc and Dunmer singing _A Less Rude Song._ But when three more hours had passed in this seedy pub his patience was wearing thin. He stepped out of the pub prepared to give Seed-Neeus a piece of his mind, when he saw her approaching him.

"Oh!" She gasped. "I was just about to get you. I am terribly sorry for making you wait for so long."

"That's fine," Will smiled, completely diplomatic even though he was highly annoyed. "Now let's talk about what you can ship to my store in Anvil and what you'd like from me."

A few more hours were spent in negotiation. Seed-Neeus was no pushover herself when it came to negotiation, but eventually they reached an accord and shook hands. It was now well past nightfall and the two celebrated their agreement with a nice dinner, which Seed-Neeus was gracious enough to prepare herself.

However as dinner progressed Seed-Neeus grew more and more concerned.

"Dar-Ma should have been back by now," Seed-Neeus quivered. "I'm worried about her."

"If you want I can go take a look. Hackdirt is only a short distance south of here," Will nodded.

"You would do that for me?" Seed-Neeus asked, lighting up.

"Of course. It's the least I can do for the food and drink," Will nodded. "I'll send her back home and then head on the way to the next town."

And so, entirely unwittingly, Will started his career as an adventurer.

**Shrine of Azura…**

_27 Last Seed 3E433_

Cierra prided herself on many things. She was a Dunmer, and that in itself was something to be proud of. She had a lovely home in Cheydinhal, which she had worked for her whole life. And she was a devout follower not in the Nine Divines, but in the Daedra.

Her love of the Daedra was a sort of obsession, and when in her travels she stumbled across a shrine to Azura, she vowed to set herself on a Pilgrimage to each of these Shrines and to serve each Daedric Prince and Princess as best she could.

Bowing before the stone visage of a beautiful woman, and setting the remains of a Will-o-the-wisp she had killed as an offering, she heard Azura speak inside her mind. It was a beautiful voice, almost angelic.

"_I have seen your name, Traveler, and heard it whispered in twilight. I ask a service, which holds promise of fame and reward. Many years ago, five followers slew the vampire Dratik and its kin, but all were infected by the foul creature. Knowing their fate, they sealed themselves up in the vampire's lair. Their suffering weighs heavily on me. Travel to the Gutted Mine. The door will open to you. Bring the peace of death to my followers, and you shall earn my gratitude."_

The sensation was over as soon as it had begun. It was such an odd thing to be so addressed by a Daedric Princess. And another for it to be so matter of fact. No fancy introduction or long sermon. A simple task, commanded of her.

Although simple was perhaps not the best word for it. Finding her way to the Gutted Mine on top of the Jerall Mountains was a hard task, and once inside she found herself completely outclassed by the darkness. She lit a torch and moved towards the interior of the cave as quietly as possible.

How was she supposed to kill these vampires anyways? Trusting in Azura to know what to do, she saw the five vampires sitting in one large chamber. The time to strike was now. She lunged at one with her silver short sword, cutting it down. The other four stood up quickly.

_Now run! _

She ran back through one of the chambers and hopped over a pressure plate. The vampire directly behind her stood on it and a mace dropped from the ceiling of the cave and smashed his head. _Three more._

In a separate chamber she spun around, gutting the third vampire and then swiftly decapitating it. The remaining two shrieked loudly and rushed at her. She dropped to the ground and the vampires fell down a chasm, their bodies broken at the bottom of the cave.

"Rest easy friends," Cierra sighed.

Back at the shrine of Azura, she heard the voice of Azura in her head almost at the moment she lowered herself to it.

"_Thank you, mortal. Their spirits are free, and henceforth, above my shrine, five bright candles shall burn forever in memory of their sacrifice. For your service, take this token, that your deeds might be entered in the Book of Fate."_

There was a small blue light and a small star shaped crystal appeared in front of her.

One of the followers near the shrine gasped. "Azura's Star?"

Cierra bowed once more and held the star firmly in her hands. It was her first Daedric Artifact.

**Imperial City Prison…**

_27 Last Seed 3E433_

Ignin's trek through the side paths had been more than confusing and unbelievably dangerous. To his dismay he found that a horde of goblins had taken up residence in the cavern system the paralleled the prison route and taking them down in his weakened condition was no small feat.

He heard the sound of swords clashing and rushed towards it to find himself, once again, in the midst of battle between the Blades and these strange red-garbed assassins. The assassin were cut down and Glenroy turned to face Ignin.

"Damn it! It's that prisoner again! Kill him. He might be working with the assassins!"

"No!" Emperor Septim said, raising his hand. "He is not."

"Well come, we've got no time to be chatting!" Baurus shouted.

The four men ran down the corridors as the sound of footsteps began to grow louder behind them. A few chambers later, they found themselves in a large room with many ornate passages. However the one that Baurus had led them too was…

"Locked! Damn it! It's a trap!" Baurus cursed.

"What about that side passage back there?" Glenroy asked, pointing in the direction of an opened gate.

"Worth a try! Let's move," Baurus ordered.

To their dismay, the "side passage" was little more than a room. It was too late to change course however.

"They're behind us!" Ignin called.

"I see them!" Baurus shouted. "You, protect the Emperor. Guard him with your life."

Baurus and Glenroy rushed out into battle, and Emperor Septim turned towards Ignin.

"I can go no further," he said, as though every word were costing him a considerable toll. "I can see my death coming. A shrill voice calls my name."

"We're trying to protect you," Ignin said. "We won't let this happen."

"There is nothing you can do," Emperor Septim smiled.

"You seem rather calm about it. Aren't you afraid to die?"

"Men are mortal. Most men know their fate, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to know the precise moment of my demise. No trophies of my triumphs precede me, but I have lived well."

And with that, the Emperor took off the large amulet that he wore around his neck. "Take this Amulet to Jauffre in Weynon Priory. He knows where to find my son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Suddenly a door hidden in the wall opened up and a red-garbed assassin jumped out. Ignin tried to push the Emperor aside, but it was too late. The dagger found its mark. Ignin let out a bellow of anger and slashed at the assassin with Captain Renault's katana. The assassin leapt to the side and seemed genuinely shocked.

"You chose a bad to align yourself with the Septims, friend!" The assassin rushed in at Ignin with a dagger, but with skill he had not known he had, he dodged the dagger, spun and slashed the back of the assassin, who fell forward, dead.

Baurus rushed into the room and saw the sight of the fallen emperor, the assassin and Ignin.

"No…" Baurus cried. "We've failed…. I've failed. The Emperor dead, and no heir."

Suddenly his face grew quite urgent. He rushed over to the Emperor and searched his body. He looked over at Ignin.

"The Amulet of Kings? Where is the Amulet of Kings?" Baurus asked.

Ignin, not sure how Baurus would react to this, showed him the Amulet. "The Emperor gave it to me."

Baurus did not react anywhere near what Ignin was expecting. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Strange. He saw something in you. It must be the Dragon's Blood in every Septim's veins. They see things lesser men cannot. But now the line is dead."

"No," Ignin said, shaking his head. "The Emperor mentioned a son. He said Jauffre would know about it."

Baurus rubbed his chin. "Another heir? That's news to me, but Jauffre would be the one to know. Listen. The exit to the prison is just a short distance down that path, through the sewers. You take that Amulet of Kings _directly _to Jauffre, you understand?"

"Where is he?" Ignin asked. "The Emperor said Weynon Priory."

"It's just outside Chorrol, follow the Red Ring Road west, and take the road there to Chorrol," Baurus explained. "Now hurry. Glenroy and I will stay here to guard the Emperor's body."

Ignin nodded and made his way down the passage. A short trek through a small bit of sewers and he found himself staring at the first bit of fading sunlight. He stepped out of the sewers, and into Cyrodiil.


	2. Chapter 2: A Dark Night

Chapter II: A Dark Night

**Frostcrag Spire…**

23 Frost Fall 4E21

Aywin paused for a moment and took a sip from her glass. The Khajitt took this opportunity to say something which, apparently, had been bothering him.

"This event happened almost fifty years ago. You say you were there?" He asked.

"That is correct," Aywin replied.

"But I can see my companion's question, Milady. You look far too young. I would imagine you to be maybe thirty," the Bosmer said.

Aywin giggled. "Why thank you. But no I am… well let's leave it I am older than that. I have been graced with youthful looks partly by my race and environment, partly, I'll not deny, by my own prodigious magical skill, and mostly by a rather special arrangement I had made many years ago. Perhaps I will delve into that later."

"I'd like to know where you got this home of yours. It's the most remarkable building I've seen, and I've been to the Imperial City!" The Nord laughed.

As though she had plucked the thoughts from his mind a moment before he addressed them, Aywin opened a small chest beside her bookshelf and pulled out a small scroll which was addressed to her.

"I had received this letter from a dear friend of my fathers. He was my Godfather. He had learned of my magical abilities during this story I am telling you and saw fit to leave it to me when he passed on," Aywin smiled, and tugged at the note as if reliving a fond memory. "But I rattle on. The night is growing darker and we have not even begun my story."

"Yes. I find it rather odd. I do not yet see the connection between these people," The Bosmer noted.

"In due time," Aywin replied. And with that, she opened the book once more.

**Cheydinhal Mage's Guild…**

27 Last Seed, 3E433

The parting at the Bruma Mage's Guild had been sad. Jeanne had spoken what Alessia considered to be rather boastful words about how the Arcane University would take her recommendation especially serious, and how Alessia should "not forget me when you've completed your training".

Volanaro and J'skar put on brave faces, Selena had given Alessia perhaps the longest hug she'd ever received, but in the end, she finally found her way out the door and down the long, winding Silver Road through the Jerall Mountains and the Heartland.

Her journey had been comparatively safe. She had run into nothing more dangerous than a wolf, which was surprising, given that bandits usually prowled the road at night.

This was not so much luck as the fact that she had chanced upon an Imperial Legion soldier who was astonished to see a girl as young as her wandering the Imperium at this time of night.

"Mara preserve us! Are you trying to get yourself killed!" The soldier had shouted before insisting on escorting her safely to Cheydinhal.

She was relieved by this. The journey had been much shorter on horseback.

Her admiration at the city of Cheydinhal was endless. Just as Bruma had much Nordic influence in their architecture, Cheydinhal preferred the sloped roofs and pointed steeples of Dunmer design. While Bruma had dwellings built partially underground to conserve heat, Cheydinhal folk like their buildings tall and sky-bound.

But no difference struck her so suddenly as when she arrived at the Cheydinhal Mage's Guild. Everybody here was so difference. There was a much more serious atmosphere, and it did not help that many of the people there were much older than Alessia.

She saw a man with knotted gray hair looking over some gems and decided to approach him.

"Um… excuse me?" She asked tentatively.

The man looked her up and down. Alessia realized how dirty the road had made her brown linens and shirt.

"Hm? Falcar, Mage's Guild. You must be an Associate," the man snapped impatiently. "Well what do you want? Don't tell me you're here for a recommendation."

Alessia stepped back and rubbed her arms uncomfortably. "Well… uh… yes, Sir. I was."

Falcar sighed, rubbed his eyes and then nodded. "Very well. I might be able to think of something for you. There was particular Ring of Burden I was testing some time ago. Another stupid Associate somehow got his hands on it, and managed to misplace it. If I didn't know better, I'd say he purposely tossed it down the well behind the hall. Why he would do such a thing is beyond me."

Alessia nodded. "Oh… well."

Falcar plowed on, ignoring her hesitance.

"You will retrieve this ring for me. Should you manage to do so, I shall _consider_ sending a recommendation to the University. The well is locked, so you'll need the key. Deetsan should have a copy of it. She's the Argonian woman. Should be up in the living quarters. Now get moving."

Alessia wasted no time in putting distance between herself and Falcar who she had now determined she thoroughly did not like. She headed up two small flights of stairs to find herself in a top-floor room filled with beds, tables and bookshelves, all arranged neatly around a roaring fireplace.

Deetsan sat in a chair, and it seemed as though she was the only one here at the moment.

"Excuse me. Are you Deetsan?" Alessia asked.

"Yes," Deetsan nodded. "You must be an Associate."

"Alessia," Alessia nodded, bowing slightly. "I'm from Bruma."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. But if you are looking for a recommendation you should be speaking with Falcar," Deetsan explained.

Alessia explained the task she had been given. Deetsan looked around her, seeming to check whether or not Falcar was within earshot and then, in a hushed voice she began to speak.

"If I didn't know better I'd say he's trying to get you killed! He gave poor Vidkun the same task, and we never saw him again. I'm reasonably sure there's a connection. Of course, I can't prove it. You be careful. I'd hate to lose another useful Associate."

"That's horrible!" Alessia gasped. "But… what am I supposed to do?"

"Don't fret," Deetsan explained. She handed over a small iron key. "Here's the key to the well. Tell me. How skilled are you in Alteration?"

Alessia explained all she knew. Alteration was the college of Magicka that involved the changing of the physical state of any matter. Master wizards had used it to lighten loads, strengthen themselves, burden their enemies and even allow themselves to walk on water or breathe underneath it.

"And so you shall," Deetsan explained. "You can cast an underwater breathing charm and a load lightening charm, correct?"

Alessia nodded.

"Well then that should be all you will need," Deetsan explained.

"Load lightening? But it's only a ring…"

"From what I've heard of Falcar's ring, it will come in handy, I assure you," Deetsan said.

Alessia nodded and made her way around to the back of the guild hall. The well was a solitary object, nothing very special about it. A large metal grate had been placed over it and locked in place. Alessia took the key and opened the grate with it.

She glanced around to see that nobody was watching, removed her shirt and skirt and dove down into the icy water. She focused on the image of a fish and conjured a spell of underwater breathing. This was the first relief she had. The water flowed through her lungs as natural as though she had gills. She was shocked to see that the well did not go straight down but opened into what looked like a small room.

And in front of her eyes was a dead body.

She gasped and let out a strangled scream. She bit her lip fighting back tears as the lifeless body bounced against the top of the room. She saw on its hand a small black ring. Alessia removed the ring and sunk to the bottom of the well. The ring was unbelievably heavy. In horror she realized that her hand was trapped under the ring.

_How is this possible?_ She wondered. The ring had not kept the remains of what she was now sure was Vidkun from floating to the top. Perhaps the ring responded only to the living. Perhaps that was its dangerous secret.

Her panic had cost her concentration to suffer and she now realized she could no longer breathe. She had to close her eyes and think.

_Calm down, Alessia. Solve one problem at a time. First, I need to breathe._

She thought of the fish again. Perfect scales, swimming gracefully in the water, breathing through its gills…

And she could breathe again. She took several satisfying gulps of the cool water and then looked carefully at her predicament.

_Okay. Now we have to lighten this load…_

She thought carefully for a moment. Weight and matter were all relative. In the end it did not matter what this ring weighed, it still took up the same mass. So what if the ring weighed 100 pounds. 150? It mattered not.

And with a small glowing mist emanating from her hand, she found the ring suddenly light as a feather. She let out a victorious pounding of her fist and swam back up to the surface.

Her arrival back in the guild hall was met with more sadness than she had expected, however. She was not surprised at Deetsan's reaction to the sad fate of Vidkun, but she had learned that Falcar had fled.

"He left shortly after sending you down the well. He must have been planning this all day!" Deetsan cursed. She noticed Alessia still holding the ring. "Oh just throw that anywhere. It doesn't matter. Falcar has fled. What could-"

"Deetsan!" A woman shouted, rushing up to her from the basement.

"What is it, Eilonwy?" Deetsan asked.

"I went to search Falcar's room like you asked and…."

"And? And what?" Deetsan demanded.

Eilowny pulled two dark black gems out of her pocket. Alessia was not certain what the significance of this was, but it was clear that it was an evil thing.

"Black Soul Gems!" Deetsan cursed. "I must make a report of this to the Council!"

She turned to Alessia.

"Alessia, I am so sorry. We could have gotten you killed. But I see you have managed to preserve yourself. I will write a recommendation to the Council for you. I think, under the circumstances, it will suffice," Deetsan explained.

Alessia bowed and then retired to her bed for the night. She felt her self somehow lucky that the illusion had shattered so soon. Being a Guild Mage was not going to be easy.

**Cheydinhal Fighter's Guild…**

27 Last Seed 3E433

The Cheydinhal Fighter's Guild was run by a foul-tempered Orc named Burz gro-Khash. It had taken Davion most of the night to show up here and before he'd even had a chance to sit down Burz was bossing him around.

"Hey! You looking for work meat?" Burz demanded. "I've got something for you. We need a weapons shipment delivered to the Desolate Mine northwest of here. That's your job."

And without a moment's notice, Burz dropped a sack in front of Davion. Inside was a longsword, war hammer and bow with a small quiver of arrows. Davion didn't have time to protest. No time to explain that he was exhausted and had no armor. Burz shuffled him out the door with a hearty "Move your ass, boot!"

And so Davion marched out of the gates of Cheydinhal and into the wilderness. He passed through the forest and followed a small valley between two large hills. This had been the right path and he found the entrance to the mine in a small forest clearing.

A short distance into the cave he saw a campfire, with three armored soldiers standing around it. The woman stood in the back, barking orders at the other two. He cleared his throat, not wanting to startle them. They turned towards him and the woman smiled.

"You must be the reinforcement from the guild! Good. I hope you brought some weapons for us," she pointed at Davion's bag.

He opened the bag and the three grabbed weapons. The woman took the bow, the large Orc to her left took the hammer and an elf to her right took the sword.

"Alright. Our job is to clear this mine of goblins. You need to help too!" The woman explained.

Davion couldn't believe it! He'd barely made it here. But with no other option except onward, he lifted his claymore and rushed into battle.

Goblins were pesky and persistent, but a threat they were not; if one knew how to fight. The goblins rushed at the four with brainless animosity and they were cut, smashed and shot down with little more than the effort to draw their weapons. Davion himself sliced down the goblin chieftain.

"Excellent!" The woman cried. "That should be all of them. You, go talk to Burz and let him know that we've completed our mission. We'll stay here to clean up."

Davion nodded, eager to get some shut-eye.

He returned and found himself once again being instantly chewed out by Burz.

"Haven't you taken care of that weapons shipment?" Burz cursed. "Those weapons won't deliver themselves!"

"It's done!" Davion shouted. "The mine is cleared of goblins and everybody is safe."

Burz's attitude changed quite dramatically. "Really? You cleared the mine and there were no casualties? That's better than I expected of you."

And without another word, he handed Davion a small sack filled with gold. His first payment.

"You should go see Azzan in Anvil. I think he needs some work from you," Burz said. He saw the look in Davion's eyes. "But you should probably get some sleep first."

**Imperial City Waterfront…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

R'darra had changed out of her flax tunic and green skirt and changed into a rough pair of leather armor that she had stolen a few months ago. She had been advised by her beggar friend that it might be prudent to wear a little protection.

And so her steel dagger at her hip, she carefully moved behind the old Dareloth house where she saw a torch light flickering. It was exactly midnight.

The redguard holding the torch eyed her suspiciously. Standing next to him was an Argonian who R'darra had never seen before and a young woman named Methredel whom R'darra was sure she'd seen before at least once.

"Do I know you?" The redguard asked.

"I was told to come here by Ka'sis," R'darra explained.

"Ah yes," The redguard nodded, now smiling. "Another scoundrel who has spent their time eluding the Guard. You must be interested in joining the Thieve's Guild."

R'darra was amazed. To the best of her recollection the Thieve's Guild, the mysterious group of ne'er-do-wells who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, under the watchful eye of the mysterious Grey Fox, was nothing more than a story. And yet here was this man claiming to permit her to join.

"The Thieve's Guild is not a myth. We are followers of the Gray Fox and I am his Doyen. Merely by finding me you have passed the first test," and now this man was speaking to the group at large. "Hm. It's unusual for us to have three potential candidates for membership, so let's make it a bit of a contest."

The Argonian whined. "That's not fair!"

The redguard ignored this. "Methredel you know the rules."

"Yes Armand," Methredel nodded.

"Well for Amusei and the newcomer, let me state this clearly. Whoever brings me the diary of Amantius Allectus before sunrise will be the winner."

For a simple task of thieving, it seemed there were a great number of details and complications. Amantius lived somewhere in the city (R'darra happened to know he lived in the Temple District) and the diary could only be claimed by one of them. They could not kill Amantius or attack each other. This much was obvious.

"Anyways, go on," Armand ordered.

Methredel and Amusei ran off in the direction of town and R'darra felt compelled to do the same. The first district next to the Waterfront happened to be the Temple District. Methredel seemed confident that he lived in this area as well, but she didn't know what R'darra knew.

R'darra had not even a month ago, paid a visit to Allectus's house to steal some food from his well stocked pantry. Making a shimmy down a side-street, clear out of the view of the night watch, she picked the lock to his house door and was in within moments.

Allectus was already asleep. She could hear his robust snores from down on the ground level. She saw a desk over near a window and took her chances with it. Sure enough, inside lay his diary. She decided to sneak a peek at what he had written, and it was some of the most disturbing words she'd ever read.

Apparently Allectus spent much of his time devising terrible abominations of alchemy and herbology, creating a vampiric breed of plants he called "Drinkers". R'darra shivered and made her way back to the Waterfront.

"Too easy," She sighed, handing the book to Armand.

Armand smiled. "Hah. Well done. You have earned the right to join the Thieve's Guild!"

"Fantastic!" R'darra nodded. "So what do I do now?"

**Inn of Ill Omen…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

Azeg-Rael's escape from the Leyawin County jail was almost too easy. The journey north to the Inn of Ill Omen was a fairly uneventful one, especially for this time of night.

The Inn itself was a rather shabby looking place. A simple two-story wooden building with a tasteful sign hanging above its door.

The sign had a picture, or rather the silhouette, of a raven that seemed to always be looking down on Azeg-Rael. Perhaps it was paranoia.

After taking a sip of water from the nearby well he entered the Inn.

The Nord behind the bar exclaimed, "Well I'll be a spotted Snow Bear! A customer. Manheim Maulhand, owner and proprietor."

"I am interested in a room for the night," Azeg-Rael said.

"Ah yes. We got plenty of rooms if you want one. Ain't nobody staying here these days 'cept old Rufio," Manheim chuckled.

"Did you say Rufio?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"He's an old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, it's almost like he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab and keeps to himself. His room is downstairs in those private quarters. You can pay him a visit if you like, but don't expect a warm welcome," Manheim explained.

Azeg-Rael chuckled appreciatively. Here this man was unwittingly giving Azeg-Rael everything he needed. He paid for a room and then noticed an Imperial Legion Forester giving him a nasty look.

"Do I know you?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"Why were you interested in Rufio?" The Forester asked.

"Curiosity is not a crime, is it?" Azeg-Rael chuckled darkly.

The Forester raised his bow. "I'll be back in an hour. We can have a nice chat then."

And with that the Forester left.

Azeg-Rael was no fool. His cover was blown, and this forester was no doubt off to go find the nearest Imperial Legion soldier. It didn't matter to him. An hour was more than enough time to do what he'd come here to do.

Making his way down the trapdoor to the aforementioned "private quarters" he found what was little more than a cellar, with two rooms beside. Azeg-Rael doubled-checked to make sure nobody was near him and he opened the door to Rufio's room.

The fool. It wasn't even locked.

Rufio's room was considerably large for an inn room. And yet it was also fairly bare. Nothing but a bed, drawers and desk with a few wall hangings. The extra space made it seem especially open.

A lantern had been left on. Poor Rufio had been too scared to sleep in the dark. This was it. The moment that would change Azeg-Rael's life forever.

Rufio, the tired old man, lay on his bed sound asleep. Almost waiting for this. Too easy.

Azeg-Rael snuck behind his back, leaned in slowly onto the bed. Azeg-Rael was certain that Rufio was now awake. There was a bitter hopeless sob that was being repressed. Rufio was, perhaps, telling himself that this was a nightmare. That he would wake up in the morning and it will all have been a dream.

What could this man possibly have lived for to make his last few hours so desperate? It didn't matter to Azeg-Rael. Rufio made no attempt to defend himself, and merely uttered a defeated gasp as the Blade of Woe found its mark in his back.

Azeg-Rael had no desire to stay any longer. The deed was done. He hurried out of the inn, Manheim shouting something about having already paid him for a room, and he made his way down the road and through the forests.

Not even a half-mile down the road he found a much nicer establishment, complete with a hay roof and two stories. A sign declared the place Faregyl Inn. With an establishment like this so close it was no wonder that the Inn of Ill Omen was doing so poorly.

Azeg-Rael handed out another ten septims, the last of his money, to the innkeeper and went straight up to his room. As he shut his door he felt that same cool presence behind him.

He turned around to the area behind the door and saw Lucien Lachance leaning against the wall.

"So, the deed is done," Lachance smiled. "How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family."

Azeg-Rael bowed slightly. "My life for the Brotherhood."

"Indeed," Lucien said, his voice darkening slightly. "For the murder of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink."

"So, now what?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."

"I understand," Azeg-Rael nodded.

"Good. We must now take our leave of each other. I'll be following your progress. Welcome to the family."

**Castle Leyawin…**

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It was well after midnight when Borin gro-Kromlock and Mazoga arrived back at the Castle. Mazoga insisted on following Borin back to the Count's quarters.

The Count was just preparing to lie down for bed when he noticed Borin and Mazoga.

"Oh! Borin. Did you… um?" Count Caro looked hesitantly at Mazoga.

Borin explained about what they had done, Mazoga filling in embellishing details where she thought necessary. Count Caro smiled.

"Such vengeance is a noble deed. And I have a fitting reward. How would you two like to become knights-errant?"

"Knight-Errant!" Mazoga gasped. "That's like a special kinda knight isn't it?"

Count Caro laughed genially and continued. "I have created a chivalric order of the White Stallion. Find and kill the leader of the Black Bow Bandits, an Orc named Black Brugo, and you will be inducted into this order."

"Black Brugo?" Mazoga asked. "I know him. Another thug I used to have to deal with. He's got a hideout in an Ayleid ruin north of here; Telepe. If we hurry we should be able to catch Black Brugo as he picks up his cut of their earnings."

"Your servant," Borin nodded to the Count as the two of them rushed once more out of the castle.

Telepe was not too far from Leyawin at all. It was a small white marble structure with a door that lead down underground, as was the case with most Ayleid ruins. Anthropologically speaking it was never quite understood why the Ayleids insisted on building structures so far underground, but it had been something of a style.

There was a campsite directly outside. Mazoga put her hand up. Borin stopped and Mazoga turned to him, with one finger over her lips.

There was a group of three bandits having a discussion over the campfire.

"This is our cut for this evening," one bandit said.

"What is this?" An Orc, ostensibly Black Brugo, shouted. "This is half of what you gave me last night."

"It's getting harder. The Watch is onto us and Mogens never showed up."

"What? You idiot! Didn't you bother looking for him?" Brugo demanded.

Suddenly a Bosmer carrying a long black bow ran up from the bayside. "Brugo! Brugo! Mogens! Mogens and his team are dead!"

"What?" A Khajitt shouted. "How can that be? Who knew where he was?"

"That Argonian hunter, Weebum-Na!" The Bosmer gasped. "He's been hunting in that area. He must have alerted the Watch."

"He'll pay with his blood!" Brugo shouted.

"That's quite enough!" Mazoga called out, walking down the hill and signaling Borin to do the same.

Brugo looked up at Mazoga and smiled. "Mazoga! Long time no see! And we could sure use a hand like yours now!"

Borin wasn't sure what to make of this.

"You fool," Mazoga cursed. "I'm out of the game."

"What?" Brugo asked, confused. "Since when?"

"Since Mogens decided to kill Ra'vindra," Mazoga explained.

"Oh, that. That wasn't personal. It had to be done, Mazoga," Brugo said as if trying to explain something to a child. "And you shouldn't have killed Mogens. It wasn't his idea to get rid of Ra'vindra."

"What?" Mazoga gasped, a drop of sweat running down her forehead.

"I approved the final kill order. Sorry, but her sudden attack of ethics was too risky for the group," Brugo grinned evilly.

"You… you bastard!" Mazoga shouted, rushing at Brugo with her longsword drawn.

Borin once again found himself in the midst of a fight that he had no stake in, but one thing was for certain. If they intended to move against Weebum-Na they were no friend of his. He smashed the Bosmer in the face with his warhammer and sent him flying back against one of the pillars. The Khajitt was a much trickier target however. He jumped from side to side constantly dodging Borin's strikes.

"You'll never hit me going that slow, Orc," The Khajitt grinned evilly.

Mazoga gasped in pain as an arrow hit her in the shoulder. Borin looked up and saw a bowman hiding on top of the ruins. The Khajitt took this opportunity and rushed in with his dagger. Borin grabbed the Khajitt's wrist and broke it in a single twist and then smashed his head into the ground with his foot.

Mazoga and Brugo were locked at blades.

"You should have just dropped your attitude and helped us Mazoga," Brugo laughed. "You and I could have had a few more good hunts together."

"You son of a bitch!" Mazoga shouted, breaking their lock and swinging in at Brugo, who dodged deftly.

The Breton archer did not see Borin coming from behind as he crept up around the hillside. He was still trying to get a good shot on Mazoga without hitting Brugo.

"Hey loose-drawers," Borin cajoled.

The Breton turned in shock to see Borin standing right behind him.

"Boo," Borin grinned as he shoved him off the top of the ruins. His body landed with a mundane thunk as it hit one of the pillars.

"Just give up already," Brugo goaded. "Die with dignity, unlike your Khajitt friend."

"To hell with you!" Mazoga shouted.

And in an instant, Brugo let his guard down. As the Breton hit the pillar next to him, he turned his head for a split second. It was all the time Mazoga needed to make the final decapitating slice across Brugo's neck.

Borin ran down the hill to Mazoga's side.

"Mazoga. Are you alright?" Borin asked.

"I'm fine…" Mazoga nodded, forcing back tears. "We're true knights now, right? Come on. Let's go."

Back at Castle Leyawin, Marius Caro was in unusual cheer, even for having been woken up so late at night.

"And so I do hereby name you both Knights-Errant of the White Stallion," The Count entomed, reading from a small hastily prepared scroll. "Mazoga if you would kindly wait in the hall for Borin. I wish to have a private word with him."

Mazoga nodded, smiled at Borin and left the Count's private quarters. Count Caro looked at Borin seriously. "You have remarkable skill as a warrior. I name you a knight gladly, but for all the service you have provided me I feel you are deserving of a more lucrative career."

"How's that, Milord?" Borin asked.

"Have you ever heard of the Imperial City Arena?"

**Hackdirt Settlement…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

For being only a few hours south of Chorrol, Hackdirt had an eerie, "middle-of-nowhere" feel to it. Surrounded by the massive oaks of the Great Forest, you could not tell that it was even part of the rest of Imperium. Secluded, isolated. And Will had a funny feeling that was how the residents liked it.

Nobody in town was at their homes or shops. The latter did not confuse Will so much at this time of night. What made the situation eerie was the fact that everybody was huddled into a chapel at the far side of the settlement.

As he opened the door he was greeted by annoyed hisses and vague muttered threats.

A woman walked up to him. "I suggest you leave stranger. You ain't welcome here."

"I'm here looking for Dar-Ma," Will said, raising his hands in apology. "I'll leave after I pick her up."

"Oh that Argonian swindler? Ha! The girl never even showed up. She was supposed to deliver some stores to me but the shipment never came. You tell Seed-Neeus I'll want half off on the next shipment," the woman cursed.

Will shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry for the intrusion folks. I'll leave now."

As he was walking out they resumed an odd sort of sermon. Something that Will had never seen before and he hoped sincerely that he would never hear again. But as he exited the chapel, he was accosted by a man.

"My house!" He demanded. "Quickly!"

"What are you on about?" Will asked, reaching for his mace.

"It's about Dar-Ma! But it's not safe to talk here."

Not sure what to make of this, he decided to follow this man. As they entered his house, he began talking at a mile a minute.

"Look, I don't have much time. I have to get to the Gathering before I'm missed," the man sighed.

"Who are you and where's Dar-Ma?" Will demanded.

"My name is Jiv. Please, you must believe me. I didn't know what they were planning," the man sighed. "They want to bring back the Deep Ones. I thought I did too, but… she's so innocent. They've got her down in the caverns. They're going to sacrifice her, you understand? You've got to save her!"

Will was confused, but all he knew was that Dar-Ma was in trouble and this man was trying to help. He opened a trapdoor and then ran out his front door on his way to the Chapel.

Will climbed down into the basement of this mans house and realized quickly that it was a large cavern system.

"This is promising," Will groaned, lighting a torch.

As soon as he did he heard scuffling feet in the distance.

"Damn it, I'm a merchant. How'd I get into this crap?" Will sighed. Using his free hand to lift his mace, he walked down one promising looking chamber where he saw firelight emanating from.

This new chamber had a large central fire with four men huddled around it. They wore sack cloth pants and nothing else, but carried identical spiked clubs.

"Once we sacrifice the Argonian, the blood price will be appeased. Soon the Deep Ones will return to us," One man said.

"Etira was right. She said they would provide us with a sacrifice soon and see how our patience was rewarded!" Another exclaimed.

Over in a corner, Will saw Dar-Ma stuck behind a cell door. She was furiously trying to pick the lock. Will felt a bit of pride in her; even in this hopeless situation she wasn't about to give up.

"Okay that's enough!" Will shouted, walking calmly into the chamber.

"Who are you?" One of the men shouted.

"Look, I don't mind wacky cults, alright. But I'm also a merchant and you killing one of my clients daughters is bad for business. So I'm just gonna take her and we'll be leaving your nice town," Will smiled.

"You think you can defy the Deep Ones?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. "Look son, I don't like to brag, but I used to Bounce for the Foc's'le back in Anvil. If I can knock out sailors, a couple of underfed, underclothed miscreants won't put a dent in me." Will set his torch and Mace on the ground. "I don't like using that thing anyways. Come on, now let's see what you've got."

One of the men charged. Will grabbed his club with his bare hands, the small spikes seeming to do nothing against his tough Nordic skin. He removed it from the man's hand and beat him over the head with it. Will then chucked the club aside and raised his arms once more.

"Okay. Next please," Will mocked.

The remaining three all charged at once. Will dodged their clubs and grabbed the middle one by his throat. He picked him up and slammed him headfirst on the cavern ground. The other two struck at the same time, their clubs hitting him on both sides, but Will just laughed.

"Please guys, I could train bears. Those puny sticks aren't gonna harm me," Will chuckled. He picked them both up and threw them against the wall, knocking them out cold. "Thank you. Come again."

"Amazing!" Dar-Ma exclaimed.

Will took a key off of the man he'd knocked out with his own club and unlocked the cell door.

"Come on. I'd rather not outstay my welcome here," Will nodded.

After finding Dar-Ma's paint horse Blossom they headed back to Chorrol, where Dar-Ma was greeted with an immensely enthusiastic hug. When Will explained what had happened to both Seed-Neeus and a guard that had been visiting her, Seed-Neeus gasped.

"But I've been doing business with Hackdirt for years!" Seed-Neeus gasped.

"Doesn't matter," the guard said. "Kidnapping is a crime and it sounds like that wasn't the worst thing that had in store for her. I'll be sending a squad to round up the people of Hackdirt." The guard then turned to Will. "You know, the Countess has been looking for somebody like you. You should go see her before you head out, merchant."

Will sighed. He was, after all, only a humble merchant.

**Shrine of Vaermina…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

It was midnight when Cierra returned to the Shrine of Vaermina, near Lake Poppad. She had been told that an offering of a black soul gem must be made and as fortune would have it, she saw an Argonian Mage disposing of some in a lone gulch behind Cheydinhal. She kept one, attached it to a letter and sent it via carrier pidgeon, presumably to the Arcane University.

Cierra knew of the danger of these gems, and only took the one required for her offering.

And as she presented it to the Shrine of Vaermina, the statue spoke within her mind.

"_Ah, we meet again mortal. For we have met before, whether you know it or not. When you mutter in your sleep, you speak to me. When you waken wet with sweat, you have just left my house. I dwell in your dreams. I savor your nightmares. Now, you will serve me."_

Vaermina explained that a wizard named Arkved had dragged one of her artifacts, the Orb of Vaermina into the waking world. He was keeping that Orb in his tower and Vaermina wanted it back.

"_Be careful, mortal," _she said. "_Arkved has found more than he bargained for in my Orb."_

The statue's head tilted slightly to the southwest and Cierra nodded. She headed in that direction for a few hours and found the large stone tower that Vaermina described. It seemed ordinary enough from the outside, but that all changed once she entered.

The first room she entered was ordinary enough. A simple dining room with a wine rack. However when she walked into the next room something was odd. It was very bare. Nothing to set this room apart from any other.

But then the odd flicker of light caught her attention. She looked up and saw the same room from before, entirely on the ceiling. Gravity played no role as plates and cutlery stayed perfectly still on the table, not moving an inch.

Sadly, that room was merely a warm-up. The next room was something out of a hellish nightmare. Blood wept down the walls and fierce monsters roamed the hallways. Cierra cast a spell of invisibility upon herself and chose to ignore confrontation. Perhaps, in this nightmarish realm, victory was impossible.

The next room was dark, and comprised thin bridges with jagged railings connecting random islands. As far as Cierra looked she could not see any walls. How was this even possible?

The perspective of the room constantly seemed to change, but again this was all nothing. The next room had trees growing within it. This was completely impossible. Cierra let out a scream of horror as she saw bodies hanging from the ceiling and blood dripping from seemingly nowhere.

The next room was a bedroom, but everything was massive in size. Twenty men could easily have slept on the bed.

Beyond that was a room with a large crystal in the center. Cierra felt a blast of freezing air that must have come from the crystal. She saw three doors on each wall. She opened one and it opened onto a brick wall. The blast of cold hit her again. She rushed at the one at the far wall, opened it and was relieved to see a pathway.

Down the ever-shrinking pathway, she found herself in a tomb, with torn bodies lying on top of altars. She saw her own naked, mutilated corpse on one, but controlled herself. This was impossible. She saw in the midst of the tombs a small trapdoor leading down.

"Calm yourself, Cierra. This is what Vaermina meant," she said trying to control herself.

She opened the trap door and saw a room filled with burning pillars and hanging corpses.

"Come join us!" One of the corpses grinned evily, its eyes suddenly open. And the body began to swing on its rope towards Cierra. Soon all the corpses followed suit. Cierra rushed up the ladder and was now screaming. Control was impossible. This is what Vaermina loved. Absolute terror.

No hope of escape, no logic, no reason. Fleeing through the halls, completely terrified she finally stumbled upon a large ladder. She climbed up it and found herself in what might have passed for a bedroom were it not for the hellish ambience.

Arkved lay asleep in his bed while spiked claws prevented any access. She tried to rouse him, but it was useless. On a nearby desk, Cierra saw the Orb of Vaermina and a handwritten note. She read:

"There is no world so great as the world of the mind.

There is no voyager so well-traveled as the traveler in the land of dreams.

There is no abyss so deep as the well of terror that lies within each of us.

I have plumbed its depths.

I have seen the unthinkable. I am unafraid.

Even death's boundaries do not confine me.

I am the lord of limitless space and the master of place and time.

Through the doors of sleep, the universe lies waiting for me.

I will no longer wait for my dreams to carry me worlds away, to unknowable deeps, to unspeakable vastness.

I shall dwell in the House of Vaermina forever, the Orb my companion.

There is no compass to my destination, no end to my journey.

My mind is the eternal voyager, fearless and wild with wonder in the Halls of Horror."

A short distance away, she saw a crumpled piece of paper. In the same handwriting, she saw only one line:

"I shall lie here in the dark, waiting for death."

Cierra took the Orb, and suddenly she heard a scream. Arkved began to wail like a child, though still remaining fast asleep. Without the Orb, he was unable to control the nightmare's it seemed.

Cierra almost took pity upon him. But, she realized, he had brought this on himself.

She saw a door leading out into the Bay, away from this nightmare, and as the door shut behind her, she could still hear Arkved's wailing screams of absolute terror.

"Ah. My Orb is returned, and Arkved will live out the rest of his days in nightmare," Vaermina said, upon Cierra's return. "It is fitting. You have proved yourself, mortal. Take this token of my gratitude. This staff, the Skull of Corruption, is my gift to you."

Cierra lifted the staff that, like Azura's Star, appeared at her feet. The Star, she had learned, could hold the souls of defeated enemies and be used to grant magical power. This staff would, she understood, create a duplicate of any living being. Such odd magicka the Daedra were interested in.

Cierra bowed again, and took her leave.

**Aleswell Settlement…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

Saryn awoke from her night at the inn and gathered up her gear. She decided that, despite her hero's welcome, it would be best to head to a larger town to find some work. Looking at a map, she decided that Kvatch would be a good place to set up shop.

As she walked out of the inn she saw an Imperial man wearing sack cloth heading up the hill.

"You look like hell," Saryn said flatly to the man.

"I probably do," Ignin replied, sitting down on a log.

"I am Saryn," she said, extending a hand.

"Ignin," Ignin replied taking it and giving it a firm shake.

"So, why the sad face?" Saryn asked.

"The Emperor. He is dead," Ignin said, all color drained from his face.

The impact of what had just happened had been ebbing within his mind. As more details began to flood back he realized the severity of their current situation. The Emperor dead by some unknown assassin and only this mysterious lead to a possibility of an heir.

"You're… you're joking right?" Saryn gasped.

"He was murdered," Ignin grunted.

"What's that?" Diram asked, appearing from around a building. "Did you say the Emperor has been murdered?"

At that moment there was a cry that seemed to fall across the Imperium. The definite end of Uriel Septim's life. The word seemed to, in an instant, spread from Anvil to Cheydinhal, Bruma to Leyawin. Emperor Uriel Septim VII was dead.

"He left me a job to do. I must get to Weynon Priory," Ignin explained.

"Then I will take you there," Saryn nodded, fighting back the tears that others in the village were not so eager to. "Come. It is just south of Chorrol."

The journey through the forest pushed the already battle weary Ignin. Saryn was a much faster runner than he was and he found keeping up with her to be something of a challenge.

**Weynon Priory…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

The sun was rising as they made it to Weynon Priory. Saryn looked at Ignin in an uncomfortable, piercing sort of way.

"I hope we meet again," she said sullenly. "I have to head south to Kvatch. Please once you are finished your job, perhaps you could meet me down there for a glass of mead?"

Ignin nodded. "I hope we meet again as well."

Somehow mutual sorrow had sparked a friendship.

Ignin walked into the priory house. It was a quaint and humble little place, as Ignin expected of a house for monks. Jauffre sat behind a desk on the second floor, perusing a book. He looked up at Ignin, with a hint of concern.

"Yes?" He asked. "I'm Brother Jauffre. What do you want?"

"I brought you the Amulet of Kings," Ignin said, not sure whether this old man would believe him.

Jauffre had a look about him. He was old, certainly, with thinning hair and a lined face. But there was also some fiery about him. This was no helpless old man. This was a former warrior. During the escape, Baurus had mentioned a Jauffre who had been Grandmaster of the Blades. This man was undoubtedly the same.

As Ignin predicted, Jauffre did not believe him. "This cannot be. No one but the Emperor is permitted to handle the Amulet. Let me see it."

Ignin handed Jauffre the large Amulet.

"By the Nine! This IS the Amulet of Kings! Who are you? How did you get this?" Jauffre demanded.

"I don't know the first myself. All I know is that my name is Ignin and I was with the Emperor when… when he died," Ignin said.

Jauffre stood and reached for the hilt of a katana that rested by the window. "You had better explain yourself now."

Ignin told him everything that had happened in the Imperial Prison.

"As unlikely as your story sounds, I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings," Jauffre nodded, taking the Amulet from Ignin.

"What did he mean? 'Close shut the Jaws of Oblivion?'" Ignin asked.

Jauffre nodded. "His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion. The Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, is one of the lords of Oblivion. But the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers."

"How can Oblivion threaten us, then?" Ignin asked.

"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied, shaking his head. "Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation. The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an Emperor is crowned he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead, and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."

"So that is why the Emperor asked me to find his son," Ignin said.

"I am one of the few who know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades. One night Uriel called me to his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe. He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child's progress. Now it seems that this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne. If he yet lives."

"Where can I find him?"

"His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger."

Jauffre opened a chest next to his bookshelf and nodded in a "take-what-you-need" sort of way. Ignin lifted out a set of Iron Armor, Boots and Greaves. From a rack on the wall he armed himself with a Steel Longsword, Bow and War Axe, as well as a quiver of arrows. There was no telling what he would be facing, and he was determined to be prepared for everything.

**Cheydinhall…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

Davion awoke to the glorious sunrise and prepared himself for the long trip to Anvil. Why the two main contract branches had to be so far from each other was beyond him. As he reached the stables he saw a young Breton girl who could be barely older than 17.

"You traveling too?" Davion asked.

"Oh," Alessia exclaimed turning to face Davion. "Yes, I'm heading for the Bravil Mage's Guild."

"Bravil eh? I'm heading to Anvil myself, but I would be glad to accompany you until we part ways. Only in this day and age it's not safe for a girl to wander the roads alone," Davion nodded gravely.

Alessia laughed. Did these people not realize she was a Guild Mage and perfectly capable of protecting herself.

"Well I suppose I don't mind that. My name is Alessia, Mage's Guild."

"Ah," Davion smiled. "Davion, Fighter's Guild and your servant."

As they began walking down the road they saw a strange looking Argonian walking up to the gates. He gave them a distant nod and entered the city.

"Man. That guy looked pretty serious," Davion shivered.

**Kvatch…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

Saryn could not believe her eyes. Sitting on a treetop near the hilltop city of Kvatch she saw it. The town was on fire. And a short distance from the front gates was a massive fiery gate.


	3. Chapter 3: For Kvatch!

Chapter III: For Kvatch!

**Frostcrag Spire…**

23 Frost Fall 4E21

"And Akatosh drew from his breast a burning handful of his Heart's blood, and he gave it into Alessia's hand, saying, 'This shall also be a token to you of our joined blood and pledged faith. So long as you and your descendants shall wear the Amulet of Kings, then shall this dragonfire burn- an eternal flame- a sign to all men and gods of our faithfulness," Aywin read from a book entitled _The Trials of St. Alessia._

"Oh. So that is the Amulet of Kings in our story?" The Khajitt asked.

"Yes, but Milady why did you stop there? What was that burning gate that Saryn saw at Kvatch?" The Bosmer asked.

Aywin smiled and continued reading: "But should the dragonfires fail, and should no heir of our joined blood wear the Amulet of Kings, then shall the Empire descend into darkness, and the Demon Lords of Misrule shall govern the land."

Aywin closed the book and sat down. The look on her face was one of a teacher trying to cajol a student into understanding a tricky concept.

"A Gate to Oblivion?" The Nord guessed.

"Very good," Aywin nodded. "So you see, Martin Septim was the Empire's last hope."

"Why is there no record of this Martin Septim?" The Khajitt asked skeptically.

"There is record, but his rule over Cyrodiil was, sadly, so short that there is only this tome and the words of those who lived through the horrific affair that he even existed. To everybody else, he was simply 'Brother Martin', citizen of Kvatch, who died when the daedra overran it," Aywin sighed. "Again as I say there is so little record of the nine heroes who this tale recounts."

"Heroes?" The Nord asked. "They are all heroes? But that Argonian assassin? And that thief…"

"Heroes are not people who have led a blameless life. They are people who have made the necessary sacrifices for others," Aywin explained. "Azeg-Rael and R'darra may not seem heroes yet, but in time, you will understand the role they play, and why they are so important to this tale.

"Young Alessia, who shares the Saints name, is a hero who you would not question. Nor perhaps Davion or Borin gro-Kromlock. And certainly not Ignin. But how would you rate Will, Saryn or Cierra. They only have their best interests at heart, at least so far. Would you say they are not heroes?"

The men were not certain where Aywin was going with this, and they didn't bother to ask. For after taking another sip from her glass of wine, she turned back to the book and continued the story.

**Kvatch…**

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As Ignin arrived at Kvatch he saw the burning flames that engulfed the city on the hill above and the large fiery gate.

"What has happened here?" Ignin cursed.

Rain was pouring down on the hordes of fleeing people. A group had set up an encampment at the bottom of the hill and were regrouping. A high elf ran up to Ignin and began to shout.

"Come on! Run while you can! The Guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time!" He shouted.

"What? What has happened here?" Ignin demanded.

A familiar voice answered for him as the elf ran off. "Gods blood! You don't know!"

Ignin turned and saw Saryn who had her bow drawn and the look of having spent a good portion of the day in battle.

"Saryn? Not quite the reunion I'd hoped for," Ignin said, unsheathing his longsword.

"Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls. Gates to Oblivion itself!" Saryn cried. She wiped her face. "There was a huge creature… something out of a nightmare…"

"The whole city can't be destroyed!" Ignin gasped.

"Go and see for yourself!" Saryn cried. "Kvatch is a smoking ruin."

Ignin and Saryn ran up the switchbacks to the top of the hill and saw only the basic frame of the city wall still remaining. The massive fiery gate stood dead center of the road, and some battlements had been erected on their side of it. A small group of guards stood perched by it, sometimes shooting arrows at the small demonic creatures that popped out from time to time.

It was then that Ignin noticed the sky. It was red as flame with heat lightning shooting across it. The clouds seemed to have turned to smoke. It was almost as if they were in the very bowels of hell.

"Oy there!" Saryn called. "We've come to help."

The guard captain turned and glanced at them skeptically. "Savlian Matius, captain of Kvatch guard. This is no place for civilians."

"Civilian my ass," Saryn cursed. "You'll not find a better shot with a bow than me. And he looks a little shabby, but he's tough."

"You want to help?" Savlian asked. "You're joking, right?"

Savlian turned towards the gate, then to his men who were in terrible condition. The entire squad looked as though they would collapse from the slightest breeze.

"If you're serious, I might be able to put you to some use. We need to get inside the town and make sure the civilians and the Count are all right, but this Oblivion Gate has to come down as well," Savlian explained. "I sent a team in while ago to see if they could close the gate. We know they can be closed, because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack."

"A suicide mission," Saryn sighed, looking back at the Gate.

Savlian nodded gravely. "They haven't returned."

"I can do it," Ignin said. And he himself did not know where the words had come from. Something inside him was telling him that this was something he would have to do.

"What are you talking about?" Savlian asked.

"I can close the gate. You protect the civilians out here while I go shut this gate down," Ignin said.

"Let me come with you," Saryn said.

"No. Your bow will be put to better use out here. If this encampment falls the civilians at the bottom of the hill are done for," Ignin explained. "Give me half a day. If I haven't returned then do what you must."

Saryn and the others nodded. Savlian looked the most impressed. "It's a brave thing you're doing."

Ignin breathed deeply and charged at the fiery gate.

**Intersection of the Red Ring Road and Green Road…**

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Davion and Alessia stopped at the road marker and shared a look at the Imperial City in the center of Lake Rumare.

"Well kiddo," Davion smiled. "It's been fun traveling with you, but I've got a much longer trip ahead of me. This is barely the halfway point."

Alessia chuckled in a sympathetic way. "Well good luck to you Davion. It was very nice meeting you."

"And you, Guild Mage," Davion chuckled. "Don't take studying too seriously now. Have a little fun while you're still young. Enjoy life."

And with a hearty wave, Davion headed west towards his final destination of Anvil and Alessia turned south towards Bravil.

**Bravil Mage's Guild…**

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Bravil was, as one of the first people she met in town so eloquently described it, 'the Cloacae of Cyrodiil'. A festering swampland town complete with ragged shacks, disease ridden ponds, mosquitoes every ten feet and a drunken wastrel of a Count.

There was an odd man standing in front of a statue in the center of town. One woman commented to Alessia: "That man is always there at the same time each week. He just sits there for hours."

As Cheydinhal had been grand, Bravil was homely, but the Mage's Guild was still a place of exceptional taste. The Argonian guild head, Kud-Ei, greeted her warmly.

"Ah welcome, Associate. Perhaps you are here to earn a recommendation?" Kud-Ei asked.

Alessia nodded, and Kud-Ei's expression changed to business very quickly.

"I'm afraid I haven't had the time to prepare anything conventional. I'm preoccupied with this situation concerning Ardaline." Kud-Ei looked Alessia over. "Perhaps you could help the poor girl. I can't get directly involved for fear of embarrassing the poor girl."

"Oh, I'd be glad to help," Alessia nodded. "What's wrong?"

"It's that Varon Vamori!" Kud-Ei grunted. "I'll need you to have a chat with him and you can learn a bit about the college of Illusion while you're at it."

"Uh… okay?" Alessia asked.

"I don't get it. Some ridiculous male thing, I suppose. He's been bothering Ardaline every day for a while now. He even stole her Mage's Staff! Perhaps he thinks it's amusing: I don't know. But it needs to stop. It's making her miserable."

"I see. So you want me to get Varon to stop?" Alessia asked.

"If you can. My main concern is that you get her Mage's Staff back," Kud-Ei nodded. "See if you can charm him into giving you the answers you need."

Alessia nodded, understanding her instructions perfectly. When she had been eight she had mastered the Charm spell. She used it on her father to convince him to buy her a toy she had desperately wanted, and was instantly scolded by her mother for manipulating her own blood like that.

When she had been a bit older, her mother had explained that- as a woman- Charming came much easier. She made a somewhat crude joke about how some women not even needing spell work, which Alessia only feigned laughter at.

Alessia found Varon having a lively chat with a friend at a pub near the entrance of town called Silverhome-on-the-Water. He was a haughty looking Dunmer, but Alessia had to admit he had a certain likeability about him. Speaking animatedly and laughing heartily it was hard to believe this man could be so cruel to somebody.

Alessia focused her thoughts on the mind; how easy it was to manipulate and break. While it was what set humankind apart from the animals, it was still so fragile and so easily tempted.

Alessia set her hand on Varon's shoulder and a light green fog, visible only to Alessia, fell over him. Varon turned and smiled at Alessia.

"Yes, can I help you friend?" Varon asked.

"Varon? I am Alessia, an Associate," Alessia smiled.

"A pleasure to meet you," Varon said, and he kissed her hand.

Alessia blushed a little but it was critical for the spell that she remain in control of the conversation. She steadied her resolve and continued.

"I'm sorry to get involved in this matter, but what's this I hear about how you are treating poor Ardaline?" Alessia asked.

Varon's smile faded rather quickly and his haughty demeanor seemed drained from him. "I don't know what to say. All I want is for her to care about me, to feel the same way as I do about her. But she doesn't. I try and I try, and it just doesn't matter. It makes me furious sometimes!"

"What about her Mage's Staff?" Alessia asked.

"All right," Varon nodded. "I admit it. I took it from her. I… I don't know what I was thinking, honestly." And suddenly he grew angry. "I was trying to tell her how I feel. Again. And she wouldn't even stop to talk to me. I just got so angry." His fervor left him and his sulky demeanor returned. "I was a little ashamed afterwards, but didn't know how to apologize or give it back. I wish I could…"

"Wish you could?" Alessia asked. "What do you mean?"

Varon nodded down the bar. "I'm afraid I sold it to that man over there. Soris Arenim."

"Well you'll just have to buy it back won't you?" Alessia demanded.

Alessia took him by the hand and marched him down the aisle towards Soris Arenim who was examining the staff in great detail. After a great deal of haggling and convincing, and a bit more out of pocket cost from Varon that he'd originally expected, the Mage's Staff was returned.

Kud-Ei was most pleased with Alessia's work.

"Hm. Perhaps you would care to assist me with another matter?" Kud-Ei asked. "This is a personal request and won't affect your status in the Mage's Guild."

"I'd be happy to," Alessia nodded.

"Well… It's about my friend Henantier," Kud-Ei began.

**Imperial City Waterfront, Garden of Dareloth…**

_28 Last Seed 3E433_

"All too easy," R'darra sighed handing a small bag of gold and a parchment to Armand Christophe.

R'darra had been asked to do a special favor of retrieving the taxes that Heironymus Lex had collected from the poor on the Waterfront. Other thieves had tried, and been caught, but R'darra simply strolled into the South Watch Tower, seized the goods and been out of there before anybody was even suspicious of her.

"You have it?" Armand asked in disbelief.

"You doubted my skills?" R'darra grinned.

"Well, Footpad, I think your talents might be of particular use to the Gray Fox," Armand nodded. "If you're up for it."

"Tell me," R'darra grunted.

"The guild has received a particular 'request' to obtain a unique statuette. It is the bust of Llathasa Indarys, the recently slain Countess of Cheydinhal. You will, of course, be paid a modest sum. Do you want this job?" Armand asked.

"Of course. I've always wanted to visit Cheydinhal," R'darra chuckled.

**Cheydinhal…**

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Azeg-Rael found the abandoned building quite easily, especially as it was the only building in town in an absolute state of disrepair. Windows boarded up, the front gate reduced to rubble; the entire abode in all ways and forms completely uninhabitable.

He waited for the area to clear and then crept into the house. The inside of the house was, if possible, worse than the outside. Thick cobwebs, broken furniture, and a general air of decay. He made his way down to the basement and found a large gap in the wall, along with a stone walkway.

Following the walkway a short distance he saw an elaborate arched doorway, and on it a chilling mural. At the bottom a picture of a woman in a black dress holding a dagger was overseeing four tiny misshapen forms. Overlooking this scene and taking up most of the door was a large skull with a black hand in the center of the forehead. The lining of the hand glowed red casting an eerie light upon the scene.

As he reached for the doors handle, a ghostly voice whispered out:

"What is the color of night?"

Azeg-Rael was not sure what this meant, but answered as he'd been instructed. "Sanguine, my brother."

At these words, the door did not so much open as fade transparent. Azeg-Rael walked straight through and found the door had turned solid behind him again, the ghostly voice whispering: "Welcome home."

Waiting for him was a fellow Argonian. She wore shrouds of black armor which covered her entire body. A quick glance around made Azeg-Rael realize this was something of a style, or perhaps even a uniform of the Dark Brotherhood.

"Greetings, Brother! Greetings!" She said warmly. "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you. I welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood! You stand now in our Sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises."

"Thank you for your kind welcome," Azeg-Rael nodded. "I hope there is plenty of work to do."

Ocheeva gave him a sly smile, a twisted and cruel glee about it. "When you are ready for a contract, go speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all 'assignments' for new family members."

Ocheeve handed him a pair of his own Shrouded Armor. Azeg-Rael excused himself to the private quarters on the right to change into it. It fit him perfectly, and somehow it made him feel safe.

The other family members of this chapter were an interesting lot. There was another Argonian named Teinaava, who was quick to comment on Azeg-Rael's potential.

"You are Argonian, yes. But you are no Shadowscale. What chaos you must have known as a hatchling! Thank Sithis you have come home at last. Welcome," Teinaava smiled, patting Azeg-Rael on the shoulder.

Azeg-Rael had heard the rumors. Argonian hatchlings born under the sign of the Shadow were called Shadowscales, and contracted to the Dark Brotherhood to learn the ways of assassination so that they could be used as stealth agents for the Black Marsh. Azeg-Rael himself was born under the sign of the Serpent.

The next person he met was a boisterous Orc. Even the serious-mannered Azeg-Rael could not help but be a little amused by his antics.

"Gogron gro-Bolmog. Welcome! Welcome to the family! I'd hug you, but Ocheeva told me not to," Gogron laughed heartily.

Azeg-Rael noticed that Gogron did not wear the Shrouded Armor, instead opting for a perfect set of steel armor.

"I know what you're thinking. Old Gogron's too big to be sneaky. Well you're right! It doesn't matter anyways. I like going in, bashing the place up and getting the job done the fun way."

A short distance from him was a Bosmer named Telaendrill. She nodded. "Warmest welcome to you. I am Telaendrill, Wood Elf and loyal daughter of Sithis. I hope you find out Sanctuary to your liking."

There was a small hallway leading down in the back of the Sanctuary. Resting on the first landing was a Khajitt wearing what appeared to be Mage's Guild Apprentice Robes. Perhaps he'd been a member before he found his true calling.

"If it isn't the newest member of the family. Let's get one thing straight—the Tenets prevent me from killing you. But I don't have to like you."

Azeg-Rael would learn later that his name was M'raaj-Dar.

Perhaps the most interesting person he met when he examined the training room. A young Breton girl. Upon seeing him she smiled. "Good to finally meet you, Brother. I hope you are getting along all right."

And out of nowhere, she leaned in and kissed him.

This was certainly out of the ordinary. The friendliest welcome he'd received thus far was Gogron's stone-fisted pat on the back. And the shock of the moment didn't stop there. He suddenly found that he could not move. He looked at her with shock and rage. She stepped back and chuckled a bit.

The effect wore off and Azeg-Rael lifted the Blade of Woe. "Do you want to get killed?"

"That was a lesson, Brother," she smiled. "Antoinetta Marie. Born, as you may have guessed, under the sign of the Lover. I can paralyze others with a simple kiss."

"I see, and what is this lesson you are so eager to teach me?" Azeg-Rael demanded. He had not lowered his blade.

"Be creative," she nodded. "Murder in the name of Sithis is an art form."

At the bottom room down the sloping hallway, was Vicente Valtieri's room. The man was a Breton and, through obvious signs, a Vampire.

"Warmest greetings to you, Brother. I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva? I am Vicente Valtieri," Vicente noticed Azeg-Rael's apprehension. He frowned slightly. "Please, do not let my appearance unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire."

"I apologize, Brother," Azeg-Rael nodded. "I have just never met a vampire before."

"I was stricken with vampirism three hundred years ago, while on an expedition deep into the Ashlands of Vvardenfell. For nearly a hundred years I hunted in secret, until the Dark Brotherhood found me. Now I have a family that accepts and even values my unique gifts. Perhaps, in the future, when I feel you have earned the right, I will offer you a chance to become a hunter of the night. Now, are you prepared for you first contract?"

Azeg-Rael sat down before Vicente, and nodded.

**Cheydinhall…**

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R'darra had to shell out fifteen gold coins to get the information she wanted, but a friendly beggar identifying herself as "Luckless Lucina" told her all that R'darra needed to know. The bust was kept in the Chapel undercroft and a Guard had been posted to keep watch over it.

It was night now, and that meant it was do or die time. R'darra snuck down the road, trying to keep a low profile.

Walking by she heard a drunkard singing loudly on the bridge across the river.

"Fllyyyyin… fllyyyin in the sky! Cliff racer flys sooo hiigggh. Fllyyyin!"

"Somebody should kill that man," R'darra groaned in annoyance.

"Stop right there!" A guardsman shouted.

R'darra looked up and saw a guard staring right at her.

"Me?" R'darra asked.

The guard shook his head. "No, excuse me, ma'am." The guard gently pushed her aside and walked up to the drunkard. "Fifth time this week you old codger. You know public drunkenness carries a fine!"

R'darra chuckled to herself and entered the Chapel of Arkay in the center of town. The chapel was beautiful, just as R'darra would expect. She was not terribly religious though, and thus felt no qualms about what she was about to.

She picked the lock on the Chapel Undercroft and made her way down the stairs.

The room was filled with pillars and coffins. R'darra had heard that the Undercrofts were nothing more than tombs for those with religious significance. She skulked low, moving from pillar to pillar. Glancing around her shoulder she saw a female guardsman speaking with a legion soldier.

"Saw a mudcrab the other day. Disgusting creatures," the woman groaned.

R'darra crept down the side path while the two were distracted and saw an ornate coffin surrounded by flowers, candles, and- standing on the end- a beautiful bust.

This did bother R'darra a bit. Dishonoring the dead had terrible consequences, but there was no way around it.

"Please forgive me," R'darra sighed, as she lifted the bust off the top of the tomb.

She felt a chill fill her bones, and as she turned around the ghostly visage of Llathasa Indarys stood, staring at her with soulless eyes and pointing an accusatory finger at R'darra.

"M-m-milady!" R'darra shivered.

Suddenly, Llathasa's ghost disappeared and the two guards stood in her place.

"Thieve's Guild!" The woman shouted.

"Stop right there criminal scum!" The legion soldiers shouted. "Nobody breaks the law on my watch! Your stolen goods are now forfeit. Pay the fine or it's off to jail with you!"

"Sorry, dear," R'darra shouted, still slightly unnerved by the ghost's appearance. "I'm broke. I guess I'll just have to resist arrest."

R'darra held the bust firmly under one arm and raised her dagger with the other.

"Then pay with your blood!" The soldier shouted rushing in.

The soldier slashed at R'darra who retreated, jumping against the far wall and then bouncing off it and over the soldier all together. The woman thrusted her sword at R'darra but she rolled out of the way and ran to the top of the stairs.

"You'd better leave. I head this undercroft is haunted!" R'darra cackled as he she ran out of the Chapel.

R'darra fled through the streets, desperate to find a place to lie low. She saw a likely target, an abandoned looking house near the east wall. She took her chances, jumped in the door and shut it before the guard noticed where she had gone.

"I'll just wait here for a bit," she sighed.

**Imperial City Arena District…**

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The long journey north had been well worth the trip. Borin gro-Kromlock stared at the majestic arena and heard the cheers from inside.

"I imagine you'll get a better view from one of our fine seats," said a short Bosmer man who ran the betting station.

The man, named Hundolin, explained that there were two "teams". The Blue Team and the Yellow Team. Borin placed a 25 gold bet on the Blue Team and went upstairs to watch the match.

A loud Imperial announcer shouted out over the din.

"Good people of the Imperial City! Welcome to the arena! You came to watch a fight, and a fight you shall have! Blue Team versus the Yellow Team! A match to the death! Lower the gates!"

The arena was a massive circle, surrounded by walls and four flaming pillars on each corner of a central "square". A smaller circle hung in the middle of the arena with a grate. The grate was stained with blood.

The Blue Team fighter rushed out from underneath Borin's row. A young woman carrying a longsword and a shield. The Yellow Team had opted for a young man using only his fists!

Needless to say, the match was a short one, the Blue Team triumphing with absurd ease. Borin collected his gold.

"So, Hundolin, my man. Where does one sign up for this?" Borin asked.

"If you want to be a combatant, head down into the Bloodworks and speak with Owyn," Hundolin said. He looked Borin over skeptically. "Nice knowing you, sir."

"Enough commentary," Borin grunted. "Bloodworks, eh? Sounds like a lovely place."

Sarcasm aside, the Bloodworks was not a pleasant looking place. It was barely more than a dungeon with sleeping quarters and training quarters all rolled into one. The smell of blood was fierce and the air was thick with sweat and sinew. The Redguard Blademaster, Owyn, seemed to share Hundolin's skepticism.

"You what?" Owyn asked. "You want to be a combatant? Hahahaha! Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she's dead!"

Borin flexed his muscles menacingly. He did not like this guys attitude at all.

"Wait you're serious aren't you?" Owyn asked, his demeanor changing rapidly. He sighed. "What is it with you people? You come in, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up decorating my Red Room. All right. It's your funeral. Welcome to the Arena you filthy Pit Dog. Go grab a Battle Raiment from the closet there. There's Light and Heavy, pick whichever you like."

Borin walked over to the closet. The Light Raiment didn't even look like it would fit him, so he opted for the steel plated Heavy Raiment.

"Hmph. Wear it proudly, and keep it in good condition so I can give it to some other suicidal idiot after you're dead," Owyn said, coolly.

"Okay, buddy, enough from you. When do I get to bash some skulls in?" Borin demanded.

He felt adrenaline pumping through his veins and suddenly made a mental connection. Perhaps this was what Owyn did. Tick off the combatants to get the blood pumping through their veins. Maybe it helped them. Maybe it made for a better show. Borin wasn't sure.

"Okay. You're on my team, the Blue Team. You fight against the Yellow Team. You got that? You can use any weapon you like, anything you need to win is legal. The only rules are you have to wear that Battle Raiment and you can't loot the corpses when and if you manage to win, you got that?"

"Good, good, let's get on with it," Borin nodded.

"Fine. I've got a match starting in about fifteen minutes. I was gonna have Tamere do it, but since you're in such a hurry to get killed go ahead," Owyn nodded. "Good luck. And may Azura have mercy on your soul."

Borin walked around to the entrance to the aptly named "Red Room." Looking up, he saw that same bloodstained grate. He walked past it a short ways up a small curved incline. This led out into the Arena proper.

Borin took a deep breath, and headed out into the Arena.

**Castle Chorrol…**

28 Last Seed 3E433

Countess Arriana Valga of Chorrol was a lovely woman. She greeted Will brightly and with a smile. Sure, she was a bit older, but Will could tell in her prime days she had been beautiful.

"You asked for me, your Grace?" Will asked, bowing.

"I heard that you helped out poor Seed-Neeus rescue her daughter," Countess Valga smiled. "I've been looking for somebody with your investigative skills to help me solve a little mystery."

"Milady, I apologize, but I'm not really an adventurer or a detective. I'm a merchant," Will nodded.

"Well then, you shall have a bounty of gold and gems for your success. Certainly that should help your shop?" The Countess smiled.

Will realized there was no getting out of this one. He sighed, and nodded. "Okay, tell me what is going on."

The Countess nodded. "It seems someone has taken away an heirloom that is quite dear to me. I want you to help me recover a stolen painting. The painting was of my lost love, the Count Valga, and it has been stolen from my bedchamber. If you bring me the painting and bring the culprit to justice, I will reward you handsomely."

Will nodded. "Alrighty. Do you have any leads?"

The Countess nodded gravely. "I suspect either Chanel or Orgnolf. Orgnolf is a drunkard with very little money. He might have sold that painting to make a little extra money. Chanel seems odd too. She always loved that painting, though I could never truly tell why."

"Well, um… okay. I'll ask around and gather some clues," Will nodded.

"Thank you. Here is a ring of keys. This should get you anywhere you need to go in Castle Chorrol," Countess Valga explained. "Oh and one more thing. Don't go accusing the wrong person now, or I shall be quite cross with you."

She was still smiling, but there was a very serious glint in her eyes. Will would make certain he knew what he was talking about before he accused anybody.

And so Will's hunt began. The Countess's steward had a lot to say on the subject, commenting on Orgnolf's drinking problem and how he'd often asked for money to fund the habit. The Captain of the Guard had a similar suggestion.

When he met Orgnolf himself the man certainly looked like a drunkard. He was a fellow Nord, much older than Will and much meaner too. He also seemed ill-disposed towards talking.

"Who are you to ask me anything? I'd just as soon ask a Goblin Maiden to a dance than answer your stupid questions," Orgnolf cursed.

Will didn't have time to deal with the drunken idiot and he felt that this was turning out to be an open and shut case. But he decided he would go speak with Chanel anyways just to be thorough.

Chanel was quite the opposite of Orgnolf. She was a lovely Redguard woman and was unfailingly polite.

"Where was I the night the painting was stolen? I was in the courtyard taking star readings. I finished up and went into the dining area, just off the Great Hall for a small glass of wine. I studied my charts until it was time to sleep. I hope that helps," Chanel nodded. "I wish I could do more to help you."

"No, my dear, you've been very helpful," Will smiled. He saw a palette and brush on her desk. "Oh, are you a painter?" Will asked.

Chanel looked back at the brush and palette. She smiled awkwardly and put them away. "Well I'm trying, you know. It's not easy. I'll probably just stick with astronomy."

Will laughed. "Anyways, I better continue my investigation. You have a good one."

Will headed back to Orgnolf and decided to lay on the pressure. He figured he might be able to squeeze a confession out of him and get on with his life. He still had a lot of places to visit.

"Look, things are looking real bad for you buddy, so you better answer my questions," Will coerced.

"You don't scare me. Look I spent that night arguing with some dumb delivery boy who dropped a shipment of mead to the castle. I didn't steal no painting and I got nothing more to say on the subject," Orgnolf cursed. "You don't have any proof anyways."

Will looked him dead in the eyes. "Maybe not, but I'm gonna get some."

Will headed to the dining area and sat down at the table. He grabbed a glass of mead and took a drink. An Orcish steward sat down next to him.

"Orok gro-Ghoth. You must be the guy working the case," he laughed.

"For all the good it's doing me," Will sighed. "I'm a merchant, this isn't what I do, you know."

"Yeah, I hear you buddy," Orok sighed.

"You don't have any clues do you?" Will asked.

"Well I ain't seen much of Chanel or Orgnolf during the night of the theft. Chanel likes to spend her time in her room and Orgnolf was arguing with that boy. Well I mean there was no point in going outside that night, what with all the rain that was falling," Orok chuckled. "Worst storm we've had in years."

"Yeah, I think I was on the road when that one blew our way towards Anvil," Will laughed. "Imagine being on horseback on the road in a bad neighborhood and it's pouring down rain. You know merchants keep getting attacked on the Gold Road so I was nervous enough as it is. The sky was completely black. No moon light, not even…"

And suddenly something dawned on Will. "Star… light… You say it was raining?"

Chanel opened her door. "Oh, Will. How is the investigation going?"

"Pretty good," Will nodded. "I think I found out who did it. And what's worse is I think I found another crime in the making."

"My word!" Chanel gasped. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you see, my dear. By now the culprit knows that the Countess won't rest until the painting has been returned to her. So our culprit will do whatever it takes to shake the heat. I think they're going to try and replicate it," Will began.

His back was turned to her, as he stared at a painting on her wall. But he could tell Chanel was sweating now.

"That's… horrible," Chanel said unconvincingly.

"It is. This painting, on the other hand, is very good. And fairly new by the looks of it. The oil hasn't congealed quite, so it's still got that glossy finish. Whoever did this has some prodigious artistic ability," Will turned to face her. "And is a very good actress."

Chanel gulped, sighed, and nodded. "What gave me away?"

"You said you were taking star readings. A little hard to do that in the middle of a thunderstorm," Will explained.

Chanel moved over the painting and lifted it out of the frame. Behind it was the painting of Count Valga. Chanel rolled it up and handed it to Will.

"Please, don't tell the Countess. I loved the Count. I love the Countess too, but when he died I just could not handle my grief. I saw her fawning over this painting and, I admit, I was jealous," Chanel sighed. "I am undone."

Will couldn't help but feel a little pity for the poor girl.

"Oh! You have returned!" The Countess exclaimed as Will walked up to her. "Any luck?" He handed her the rolled up portrait. "This is it! This is the painting? Whom did you accuse?"

Will sighed. "It was Chanel, your Grace." And he explained what he'd learned.

The Countess sighed and nodded. "Chanel painted that painting, you know. I am shocked that she would steal it, but your evidence is without question. Chanel… will not be imprisoned. I am not without pity. But she will be banished from Castle Chorrol. I no longer trust her enough to keep her in my employ."

Will nodded.

"But enough about that. Here is your reward. A fine bounty of gold and gems, as promised."

And the steward handed Will a decent sized sack filled with Septims and a small box which held a ruby, sapphire, emerald and diamond.

"And now, you no doubt must be running behind for helping me, so I bid you farewell," the Countess smiled. "Thank you for a job well done."

At long last, Will returned to his horse, added the sack of gold to his saddlebag and hitched up his cart. He saw Chanel saddling up a horse as well. The two of them exchanged a sad look as they went their separate ways.

**Shrine of Nocturnal…**

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The next shrine that Cierra had heard of was the shrine of Nocturnal. It was a short distance from Leyawin which meant a great deal of walking and arriving in the wee hours of the morning.

Cierra was suddenly aware that she had nothing to offer Nocturnal, but it didn't seem to matter as the statue of the robed woman spoke.

"_Night among strangers. Secrets in the dark. Nocturnal is here. But my Eye is blind and drowned. Stolen from my shrine and hid in dark waters. To steal from a God is most unwise. In Leyawin two Argonians think themselves secret, but the Eye has seen them. Find these thieves in the city that spans the waters. Learn where they hide my Eye. Retrieve the Eye of Nocturnal, mortal. Return it to me and I shall look favorably upon you."_

Cierra bowed and made her way south to Leyawin. There was a great problem with this task already. It was the Trans-Niben. There were a lot of Argonians. Did Nocturnal have no other clues?

Preparing herself for a long days hunt she entered the city of Leyawin and began to question everybody she saw. As she predicted most of them knew nothing. However one man mentioned two names, Weebam-Na and Bejeen.

"They've been bragging about some big score they made recently. Some rare jewel or something," The man sighed. "I tell you that Bejeen wasn't such a bad girl until she hooked up with Weebam-Na."

Cierra thanked the man for his advice and made her way towards Weebam-Na's house. The man was only too eager to point it out.

Cierra knew that they would never confess to stealing such a sacred artifact, but she had a plan. She sat down in the bushes near their house and stealthily cracked a window. She turned herself invisible once more and listened.

For a few hours, nothing interesting happened, but then she heard an Argonian woman.

"But what if the trolls eat it?"

And then the man. "Trolls don't like water. Trolls don't swim. The Eye is perfectly safe in Tidewater Cave. So relax."

"Tidewater Cave," Cierra pondered. She opened her map and looked. A short distance southeast of Leyawin on the shoreline of the ocean was a small cave with that name.

Tidewater Cave was appropriately named. Half of the cavern was submerged in water. Beneath the surface of the water in one of the chambers, Cierra saw it: A glowing spherical object. She dove down and retrieved it. How Trolls eating the massive thing could possibly be a concern of Bejeen's was beyond Cierra, but with difficulty she managed to carry it back to the Shrine of Nocturnal.

"_My Eye is returned. And I once again see in to the Darkness that is your world. We mock the thieves, for bitter is their loss. You, mortal, may take this." _

A small instrument appeared before Cierra. It looked like a lockpick, but had a much more ornate feel to it.

"_The Skeleton Key will open any door you require and it shall never break," _Nocturnal explained. "_But now, mortal, permit me a question. Why do you seek the artifacts of the Daedra?"_

Cierra looked back at Nocturnal and shrugged her shoulders. "I have set myself this task to prove my faithfulness. I wish to learn more about you."

"_But why?"_

Cierra smiled. "I hope to find the answer out myself during my journey."

**Kvatch…**

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Davion reached the encampment by early morning, the stars still out and the rain still pouring. The first thing he noticed was the surprising state of the people here. He had heard from a fleeing high elf he'd met on the road about the attack on Kvatch and decided that as it was on the way he would go see what he could do to help.

He had expected to see a bandit attack or some loose beasts. The thing that this man was describing, a gate to Oblivion, it was surely an exaggeration or maybe even a sick joke. But seeing it up close like this, it was unlike anything he'd ever imagined. The people of the encampment were now treating their wounded and trying to see who had made it out alive.

After checking that everybody was alright he rushed to the top of the hill. The Watch was still battling the hordes of daedra that kept popping out of the large fiery gate, a Bosmer woman giving them ranged support with impressive marksmanship.

Davion didn't wait to be told. He raised his Claymore and sunk it into the hide of one of the beasts.

Savlian Mattius turned to him. "Who are you?"

"Davion! Fighter's Guild! Thought you could use a hand!" Davion shouted.

"The Fighter's Guild is here? Praise Talos!" Savlian cried.

"Not the whole guild, I'm the only guy in the area. You'll have to settle for me!" Davion replied slashing across the chest of a large reptilian monster with a sloped head.

"I'll settle for any help I can get at the moment!" Savlian replied.

"I'm worried about Ignin. It's been almost half a day now. Shouldn't he have accomplished something?" Saryn asked.

"My dear, I sincerely think Ignin is dead," Savlian said sorely.

**Plane of Oblivion, Kvatch Gate…**

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Oblivion was a horrible place. Red lava was the sea and barren rock the land. The sky was blood red and flashed with that same horrible heat lightning that crashed above the skies of Kvatch back in Cyrodiil.

After rescuing a soldier named Ilend Vonius, perhaps the last survivor of the group sent in, he had been pointed in the direction of a huge tower which cast its shadow across the entire island.

And so after a long journey of avoiding lava pits, dodging the eerily hostile plantlife, cutting down monsters and narrowly avoiding a falling rock trap set up on a sloped hillside, he found himself within this massive tower.

The spire was at least a thousand feet tall, and in its center a massive pillar of fire rose up through the floors to a distant and practically invisible roof. Passages along the side were the only way to make it up this monstrous beacon.

As vicious as the fauna had been the guards of this tower were even moreso. Tall shock troopers wielding maces and longswords of broken rubble and sinewy hilt. Ignin recalled the "Dremora" and "Daedric" methods of weaponscraft from some lost memory within him.

As he entered the first side room he was accosted by two of these "Dremora". The first swung at him wildly with a mace. Ignin dodged deftly and plunged his long sword into his stomach, the only soft part of the armor that he could immediately identify. The second attacked from a distance, wearing a black robe and sending blasts of lightning soaring just past Ignin's ear.

As Ignin charged, he was hit in the chest with one of these spells and fell back. The Dremora stepped on his longsword and raised his hands over him for the kill. Ignin reached at his side for his war axe and plunged it into the Dremora's face. The Dremora stumbled backwards and Ignin swiftly withdrew his bow and finished him with an arrow.

The hike up to the top of the tower seemed to have taken as long as the journey through Oblivion. He now found himself outside the tower on a bridge that led to a smaller tower, and looked down at the several hundred foot drop with unease.

He began to cross slowly and methodically. One misstep would end his journey quite definitely, and he had resolved upon entering this horrible place that he would not die in it.

Inside the other tower he saw a grated ceiling above him. A Dremora was standing guard over a man in a bloody cage. Ignin rushed to the top of the tower, but the Dremora did not attack him.

He smiled a bloody smile and spoke in a voice that sounded as if he was speaking it from the other side of water; an eerie dual-tone voice that gargled more than spoke.

"You should not be here mortal!" The Dremora shouted. "Oblivion will overtake your world. You cannot stop it."

Ignin threw his war axe at the Dremora who simply batted it aside with his long sword, but that was all the distraction Ignin needed. He raised his bow and shot two arrows simultaneously into his neck.

The Dremora fell to the ground and the man in the cage started shouting.

"The key! The key! Get the key!"

Ignin saw that with the Dremora's last breath he had cast aside a small key and it was sliding towards one of the holes in the grate. He leapt forward and caught it at the last moment. The man laughed in triumph.

"You shoot like a Bosmer and are as quick as the Khajitt!"

"Will this open your cage?" Ignin asked.

"No!" The man sighed. "It is too late for me. That key will open the path to the Sigil Stone at the top of the tower. I heard this beast talk to another of his kind. They said that the Sigil Stone powered the gates, so if there is a way to close them, removing the Sigil Stone should do it."

"We have to get you out of here."

"No!" The man gasped. "If you don't hurry and close the gate then countless more will die while you try to save me. Just go to the top of the tower do you understand?"

Ignin saw the man toying with a dagger he had somehow managed to hide from the Dremora and knew what he intended to do. And yet the resolve in the man's voice set Ignin in motion.

"Well if you are set," And with that Ignin pressed a lever on the wall to open the cage. The man fell onto the grate with an exasperated groan. "I've seen quite enough people die today. Get back to the gate entrance. If you run you might be able to make it. But I'll not wait for you if it will make you feel any better."

The man looked up with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude. "You should have let me die."

"I'm sure I will. These Planes of Oblivion are dangerous places. You may as well take out a few Dremora with you," and with that Ignin handed the man the Dremora Longsword.

"You've got a point, lad," the man laughed

**Kvatch…**

29 Last Seed 3E433

Somebody came running out of the gate, but it wasn't a Dremora or Ignin.

"Menien!" Savlian shouted seeing the battered body of his comrade. "You're the second alive since Ilend returned to us!"

"And the last I'm afraid," Menien cursed. "I had to crawl down to the bottom of a tower and hike across bloody rocks to inform you that the others are all dead."

"All of them? Rowen? Bartz? Sabein?" Savlian cursed.

"Rowen was killed trying to defend Ilend over there. Bartz attempted to flee and was pushed into the lava by one of those damned falling rocks! Sabein was thrown off the top of the tower for the amusement of the Dremora," Menien cursed.

"What about Ignin?" Saryn asked.

"If you mean that Imperial bloke with the iron armor, he's doing alright. Took down a bunch of Dremora and saved my neck to boot. He's on his way to the Sigil Keep right now, should be done with this gate in minutes," Menien explained.

"We haven't seen many more Daedra attacking. Perhaps he's got them all trained on him," Savlian began to laugh. "This is a good sign."

**Planes of Oblivion, Kvatch Gate, Sigilus Sanctum…**

_29 Last Seed 3E433_

The final chamber of the tower had a breathtaking evil about it. The flames shot upward through the central spiral and into the basin that held the Sigil Stone. The staircases were made of bone and sinew of some long-forgotten monster and the Dremora guard patrolled more thoroughly than ever.

The battle was bloody. Ignin took another bolt of lightning to the back and retaliated by firing an arrow into the rope holding up a corpse. The corpse landed on the Dremora mage, pinning it temporarily.

Where had he learned to fight like this? Had he been a soldier in his former life? A crusader? An assassin?

The other Dremora mage summoned a reptile with a sloped forehead.

"Kill him Clannfear!" The Dremora shouted.

Ignin smashed through the beasts skull with his war axe and then slashed down the Dremora with his long sword. Up one more flight of stairs he saw the Sigil Stone. What was he to do? Simply retrieve the stone?

Throwing caution to the wind as more Dremora charged up the stairs after him he tackled the stone, which was about half the size of a watermelon and leapt down to the lower level. Fire engulfed the world around Ignin, but its heat did not sear him. And suddenly in a flash of light he found himself lying once again on the sweet ground of Cyrodiil.

**Kvatch…**

29 Last Seed 3E433

"Ignin!" Savlian shouted, rushing to help Ignin up. "Thank the Nine! You closed the Gate! This is our chance to launch a counterattack!"

Savlian called all of his soldiers around. Ignin recognized Saryn and was grateful to see her still alive.

"You closed the Oblivion Gate?" A redguard man asked him, shaking his hand. "Davion, Fighter's Guild. I'm impressed. "

"Ignin. It's a pleasure to meet you," Ignin replied nodding. "But you say a counterattack?"

"Yes. Half of the citizens are still trapped in Kvatch!" Savlian explained. "And they are likely still under Daedric attack! Brother Martin wisely gathered them all into the Chapel, which through some miracle still stands. The daedra, it seems, cannot cross into the chapel," Savlian smiled.

"Wait, did you say Martin?" Ignin asked, suddenly remember why he had come to this hellish place. "I've been sent to find him!"

"The Chapel would be the place, but please, help us liberate Kvatch first! You have the most experience fighting these monsters and we would be glad of your assistance!" Savlian begged.

"The best way to assure safe passage for this man is to clear the road of enemies," Saryn suggested.

Ignin nodded. "You're right. Okay, do you have a plan?"

A small squad of Imperial Legion soldiers ran up the hill behind them.

"The Imperial Legion, at last," Savlian said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Forgive our lateness but Kvatch is not the only place where these accursed gates have popped up! It would seem all over Cyrodiil we are under attack!" The captain cursed.

"Are the other cities okay?" Davion asked, thinking of his home of Chorrol.

"No other cities have been attacked directly. But these gates are appearing in the wilderness. It's almost like they're feeling out the sneakiest places to attack us," one of the soldiers shivered. "But I see the gate at Kvatch has closed."

"Thanks to this man right here," Ilend said, pointing at Ignin.

"You fought the Daedra?" The captain asked in disbelief. "Talos must favor you."

"The battle is not over yet!" Savlian shouted. "We still have civilians to save and I fear we are running out of time. "

"We are at your command," the captain of the Legion Troops nodded.

"Very good. First, we are all going to charge into the city plaza and wipe out the dremora there. There can't be too many left, but you never know," Savlian said. "After that, we are going to split up. Ignin, Davion, Saryn."

The three cast glances at each other and then turned back to Savlian.

"You three show great potential at fighting these monsters but as you are not my soldiers I cannot order you to do anything. However I would recommend that you head to the Gate House and open the drawbridge gate. Us soldiers will wait for you to open it and then we will take back the Castle," Savlian explained.

The three nodded, as if there was no other choice to be made.

"Soldiers, listen up!" Savlian said. "Once we get inside the castle our first priority is the Count. None of us will retreat until he is safe, is that understood?"

The soldiers all shouted their assent.

"Alright then! Ready?" Savlian raised his sword and started to run towards the city gates. "For Kvatch!"

When the gates opened the men's morale was boosted even more to find only a handful of dremora and their pet monsters left. The large force slaughtered them within minutes.

"Alright! Ilend, Menien! Make sure the people in the Chapel are alright. Tell them to stay there until we are done here!"

"Yes sir!" Ilend said. "I think Menien could use a healer at any rate!"

Menien was on his last legs. The scant bit of fighting had still done a number on him and he panted, bearly able to move under the weight of the chainmail that had been tossed over him before the battle began.

"Aye! Take care of him!" Savlian shouted. "Ignin, Davion, Saryn! To the Gate House!"

The three charged up over the rubble to the back end of town. There were a few scattered dremora here, but nothing that they couldn't handle. At the end of the road they found themselves at a corner watchtower. A short tunnel trip later led them to the Gate House.

The gates opened and the true battle began. The dremora had gathered themselves within the castle gates. Saryn and Ignin provided ranged support, but the soldiers had the situation under control, knocking down the weakened dremora. A half-hour of fighting and the castle was theirs again.

The Count, however…

"Captain Mattius!" A Kvatch soldier shouted, holding up a small signet ring. "The Count is dead!"

The morale that had run so high through the fight failed them. Savlian smashed his sword against the side of the wall, shattering it.

"And so another falls," Savlian sighs. "You do not need to tell me why you were delayed, gentlemen."

The Imperial Legion soldiers shifted uncomfortably.

"If this fate has befallen us, then the Emperor is dead," Savlian sighed.

"We have won one battle though," Ignin said. "And there is hope. I must speak with Brother Martin immediately."


	4. Chapter 4: The Amulet of Kings

Chapter IV: The Amulet of Kings

**Frostcrag Spire…**

23 Frost Fall 4E21

"The Imperial family seems to have a curse over it," the Nord observes.

"The Septim line does have some unfortunate history. Why today is a day of observance of one such event," Aywin comments.

"Broken Diamonds," The Khajitt nods. "I have visited Glenpoint, you know, where it happened."

"I'm sorry, I am not familiar with this," the Bosmer says curiously.

Aywin nods. "On this day in year 121 of the first era, the Empress Kintyra Septim was killed by the usurper Uriel III in the Glenpoint Imperial Dungeon."

"Such a terrible thing to have happen in a family so great," The Bosmer sighs. "I had never heard about that."

"History is full of many of these sad occurrences that we take for granted," Aywin nods.

The Khajitt grunted. "Yes. Your tale, for instance. You say you were there, Milady. But so far we have not heard of your role."

Aywin nodded. "Ah yes, I suppose that might seem a bit confusing. Well the fact is when this disaster at Kvatch occurred I was preoccupied."

"Preoccupied?" The Nord asks. "May I ask in what way?"

"The time is not quite right to tell you that bit of the story. Don't you want to know what became of 'Brother Martin'? Of Kvatch?" Aywin asked.

It was clear that Aywin was set on telling the story her way, and the three men returned to their seats.

**Kvatch, Chapel of Akatosh…**

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The soldiers entered the chapel of Akatosh in the center of what remained of Kvatch. The steeple had fallen over, but otherwise it seemed to have been protected by the gods. The stained glass windows of the nine divines that rounded the main chapel were in as good condition as they had ever been.

The altar in the center had not so much as suffered a scratch, and the red drapery around it still shone brilliantly.

The civilians who chose to stay in Kvatch than risk fleeing were huddled around this chapel. Some praying at the smaller altars underneath each glass depiction and others cursing the gods for taking away their homes, lives and families.

Ignin, Saryn and Davion sat around a small table enjoying a brief meal.

"Brother Martin will be with you directly," Savlian nodded. "He is tending to the wounded."

Ignin nodded and took another sip from his goblet.

"This guy is really the Emperor's son?" Davion asked.

"Best not to say that aloud until we have him in a safe place," Menian sighed. "The enemy has many ears."

Ilend shrugged his shoulders. "If they can unleash this kind of chaos upon us I wonder what good this man can do. Even if he is the heir that doesn't mean the Oblivion Gates will all suddenly close, does it?"

"There is much we don't know," Savlian said. "I think that is the point. I think only the Emperor knew."

"And why did he not tell us?" An upstart named Beirich Inian cursed. "Why must he hide things from the people he protects?"

"That is the Imperial Prerogative, Beirich," Savlian said sharply.

"I wish I could help you but I have sworn an oath to the Fighter's Guild. I am needed in Anvil as we speak," Davion nodded.

"I understand. The Emperor charged me with this task, you are free to go your own ways. Keep an eye on Cyrodiil. Dark times are a head of us," Ignin nodded.

"I am heading into the wilderness for a while. If more of these Oblivion Gates are open I want to see them. Perhaps I can identify a pattern," Saryn suggested. "I will write to you."

"I don't know where I will be in a few days to be honest," Ignin shrugged.

"Trust me. My letter will find you," Saryn nodded shrewdly.

At that a young Imperial man with short brown hair walked up to the table. He wore a gray robe and looked thoroughly discontent.

"You have need of me? If you need a healer, perhaps I can help. If you need a priest, you had best look somewhere else," Martin sighed.

"I must have a word with you, and I insist for our safety that it be in private," Ignin nodded. He cast a look towards Savlian who nodded approvingly.

Martin nodded and followed Ignin out of the Chapel and into the ruined streets of Kvatch. The plaza was barren now. All the soldiers were in the chapel tending to the wounded, burying the dead and drinking to the memory of both the Count of Kvatch and Emperor.

"I do not know what help I can be," Martin said. "Having seen what I have seen I am finding my faith strained."

"There are Gods," Ignin said flatly. "And they have a plan for you."

Martin turned to Ignin. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ignin. I was sent by Emperor Uriel Septim to find you," Ignin explained.

"Me?" Martin asked. "I am but a simple priest."

"No you aren't. You are a son of Emperor Septim. The Heir to the Dragon Throne," Ignin said.

Martin cast a suspicious glance around him. "My father was a farmer. Why should I believe any of this?"

"There is a man named Jauffre in Weynon Priory near Chorrol. He told me all about you. Perhaps he can prove that you are who you are."

Martin sighed. "I suppose staying here will do me little good. For some reason I feel as though I can trust you. I've heard of what you did, you know. Closing the Oblivion Gate, liberating the city from the Daedra. I can tell you are no enemy of mine."

"So you will follow me to Weynon Priory?" Ignin asked.

"Yes. I place my life in your hands, do not fail me," Martin said, although he seemed to lack some resolve.

Saryn and Davion exited the chapel along with Savlian.

"I am heading out now," Saryn smiled at Ignin. "May our next meeting be more favorable."

"I look forward to your letter," Ignin returned the smile.

Davion wasn't sure what to say, but patted Ignin on the shoulder and took his leave. Savlian turned to Martin and then back to Ignin.

"Ilend and Menian are on patrol but they wanted me to send their thanks to you before you left. You have done Kvatch; indeed the Imperium a great service today," Savlian nodded.

"It was nothing," Ignin nodded.

"So Martin. You are leaving then?" Savlian asked.

Martin simply nodded. Savlian looked at Ignin with a slightly grim expression on his face. "If you must travel by the Nine Divines stay on the road. The wilderness is no longer safe anymore."

"Don't suppose you have any horses?" Ignin asked. "I must get Martin to Weynon Priory as fast as possible."

"The Imperial Legion soldiers left some by the city gate. They say you are free to take them."

Ignin nodded. "Very well then. What about you?"

"I? My days of fighting are over I am afraid. I've made Ilend the new Captain of the Guard. But I will stay on in an advisory capacity. Please, if you ever need our aid, just let me know," Savlian nodded.

"I will do that. Farewell," Ignin said.

"Godspeed," Savlian replied as he headed back to the chapel.

**Bravil, Residence of Henantier…**

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Henantier lay asleep in his bed on the top floor of the small shack that he called his home. Kud-Ei and Alessia sat on a bed opposite his.

"Hopefully he should awaken soon," Kud-Ei said, clutching a small amulet in her hands.

About six hours earlier, Alessia had followed Kud-Ei to this place. Kud-Ei had explained that a fellow guild mage, Henantier, had a dangerous habit of experimenting with magic.

"He told me his latest project involved his deams," Kud-Ei explained. "He wanted to create an amulet that would allow him to enter his dreams."

"'Enter his dreams'?" Allesia asked. "But anybody can dream."

"Yes. But with this Amulet he would create a world completely within his own, bound only by his imagination. He got the idea from the Orb of Vaermina, the mystical Daedric Artifact that is supposed to allow one to bring their dreams into the real world," Kud-Ei had explained.

"But why would he want to do that?" Alessia asked. "Amusement?"

Kud-Ei shook her head. "No. He meaned to turn his dreams into a training ground where he could test and experiment with even more dangerous branches of magic."

Kud-Ei registered the look on Alessia's face and changed her tone at once.

"This was not an evil wish. He had little interest in the college of Destruction. But certain powerful magicka of any college has its risks. And… technically speaking the Mage's Guild frowns on such reckless behavior," Kud-Ei sighed. "That is why I could not ask the Guild for help."

"How can I help him?" Alessia asked.

Kud-Ei brightened up at once and explained the situation to Alessia. The Amulet had been constructed. It was called the Dreamworld Amulet by Henantier. Kud-Ei's plan was to have Alessia wear it and sleep next to him, which would allow her access to his dreams.

"Why can't you go?" Alessia asked.

"I'm somebody in his memory. If he saw me in there, he would simply dismiss me as a figment of his imagination. The only way this could work is if it was a total stranger," Kud-Ei explained. "Find out why he has not been able to wake up. And be careful. Henantier told me once that if he died in his dreams, anybody sharing his dream would die as well. I am putting you at the mercy of my colleagues darkest imaginings, and I am sorry."

Alessia gulped. She had not figured this to be a life threatening chore, but she had already promised Kud-Ei that she would help. She put on the Dreamworld Amulet and, with some difficulty fell asleep.

Henantier's Dreamworld was unlike anything Alessia had ever seen. At first glance it seemed to be his house, but there was an odd red tint to the place. The far wall of his bedroom looked like a cavern rather than a house. The bottom floor held a variety of doors each with a different appearance.

In the center of the bedroom stood Henantier, babbling to himself. He did not, apparently, realize he was in a dream. Alessia had tried to explain to him the situation, but he simply shrugged her off, mumbling about "getting out".

Steeling her nerve she decided to explore this dreamworld more fully. There were two doors on the lower level, a small door embedded into the cavernous rock wall on the far side of the bedroom and a door that looked like a stone grate on the other.

This was the door she chose first. At once she saw darkeness, with a small path lit by only a few glowing crystals. She reached at once for a torch, but found that entering the Dreamworld had robbed her of everything but her garments. She tried to cast a spell, but even that failed. Unsure of what to do she felt around the ground before her and found a small casket.

Inside, mercifully, was a torch.

She moved along a stone path in front of her. Under the torchlight she saw a pressure plate and dodged it. Looking up she saw a makeshift trap of falling boulders which, had she not been able to see the pressure plate, would have undoubtedly crushed her.

She reached a small circular platform, with the center missing, leading into a large hole from whence light emanated. Swinging blades crisscrossed the path around and Alessia carefully made her way around them.

As she stepped off the platform and onto another stone path she at once could not breathe. She looked at the ground and saw vents of flowing, poisonous gas. She held her breath and ran to the next area.

Falling blades which she barely avoided smashed down in front of her, followed by more falling rock traps. But at the end of this passage was a small altar. On it floated a small round orb that glowed blue. The words around the altar read: Perception.

She grabbed the orb and in an instance found herself back in the room with Henantier. Henantier was now up and moving, able to tell walls from ground. He seemed slightly more docile but still not ready to talk. Heading downstairs she entered the door that would have been the exit to his house in the real world.

Terror struck her.

She was in a cave, completely filled with water. The waters went down into the abyss and there was no end in sight. She cursed that she was not Argonian and waded towards a small casket that held a small potion.

Figuring what this must be, she drank it and then dove down into the water. She could breathe, for a little while. It was the second time in just a few days where she had experienced the odd sensation of being able to breathe water.

But then panic struck. She was nowhere near the bottom but far too far from the surface to retreat and the effects of the potion had worn out. She held her breath as best she could clutching at the rocks.

The rocks revealed another small casket and inside another potion. She forced the bottle into her mouth and downed it. Life seemed to return to her and she continued diving downward, realizing that down was the only way out.

At the bottom of the cave there was another door. She opened it and found herself standing in the center of a small fort. Another altar stood here, the orb it held glowing orange. The altar read: Courage.

Henantier now seemed to have the bravery to talk to Alessia, but he bombarded her with questions and when he failed to answer them satisfactorily, he threw what was nothing short of a childish hissy fit.

Alessia entered the small cavernous doorway. The path here was slightly dark but manageable and a small casket stood awaiting directly in front of her.

She opened it and saw a scroll with a variety of symbols, arranged in three unique patterns. At first this meant nothing to her, but as she walked down this path she saw a small grid of pressure plates, surrounded by columns. These columns had holes with brass blocking, the telltale signs of an arrow trap.

Looking again at the scroll she understood. Almost every symbol was unique on the page, but one repeated along a small path. She breathed in and set her foot on the first pressure plate marked by this symbol.

Nothing happened.

She followed the path to the end, doing the same for the two more complex grids ahead of her. At the end of the path, she saw a small purple glowing orb. The altar read: Patience.

Henantier would now listen to her and understand her, while before he had been too impatient or cowardly to do so, but he still wanted to do nothing about his predicament. He didn't have the willpower to move.

Alessia entered the last door on the bottom floor which had bloodstains all around it.

A small casket stood beside her, filled, somehow with every weapon and armor imaginable. She reached down into the somehow bottomless basin and grabbed a staff and some light armor, draping it over herself. She walked up the stairs in front of her into a large replica of the imperial arena and was assaulted by three minotaurs.

She dodged the hammer of the first deftly and sent a blast of lightning its way, radiating through the staff. Finally she could cast magic again! Always having preferred lightning for some reason she sent two more monstrous blasts at the other other two minotaurs knocking them down. A stairwell rose from nothingness and let up to a spectator seat.

The orb glowed green and the altar read: Resolve.

Henantier now seemed to have forgotten everything, but at the same time seemed more himself then ever. Alessia explained to him one last time what had happened and he nodded.

"I can see now that what you were saying was no story at all, but the truth. And I'm a fool. I had no idea that the amulet could hold such power over me. I set out to create a way to conquer my failings, but it seems the tables had turned, and they conquered me. I don't know how you did it, but I thank you. Now we must wake from this dream and take our places in the real world again. Farewell."

Alessia had woken with a start. She and Kud-Ei sat on the bed awaiting Henantier's awakening.

"Are you sure you did everything right?" Kud-Ei asked as thirty minutes passed.

"I'm sure," Alessia nodded.

Henantier began to stir. Kud-Ei gasped with joy and hugged Henantier as he slowly awoke.

"So affectionate," Henantier laughed. He turned to Alessia. "It's good to see you in the real world. I'm indebted to you for rescuing me from my nightmare."

"It was nothing," Alessia nodded. "What took you so long?"

Henantier shrugged his shoulders. "I had to finish something off."

And as Alessia looked at him, the Dreamworld Amulet had vanished from around his neck.

**Anvil, Fighter's Guild…**

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Having been up most of the night battling Daedra it was no surprise that upon Davion's arrival at the guild he promptly made his way to the living quarters and fell asleep. He awoke sometime in the mid afternoon and went about his business, looking for Azzan, a fellow Reguard who was the Chapter Head.

He was a tough looking guy who seemed as though he could hold his own against gro-Khash with little difficulty. He wore a full set of Steel Armor and sat behind a desk laden with his weapons of choice.

Davion had barely uttered a syllable when Azzan nodded. "Contract right? You're a bit late."

Azzan seemed to catch-on that he might have said something offensive and changed his tone at once.

"But of course you must have come from Kvatch," he said in a much more somber tone. "That new shook us all. And of course the news of the Emperor's death."

"I actually fought alongside the guard at Kvatch," Davion nodded. It was not an attempt to boast, but an indication that he would like a more significant task than delivering weapons.

"Well than this contract should be a piece of cake," Azzan continued. "I need you to help Arvena Thelas. Apparently she has some rats in her house."

Davion sighed. There was nothing he could do about it but accept the assignment.

"Yes, rats. I'm sure she can explain it to you better than I. She lives here in Anvil. Go and talk to her," Azzan ordered. "Good luck."

On his way out he saw a husky dog blocking his way. The dog sniffed him and began to bark in a fairly pleasant way.

"Oh sorry!" A Dunmer woman smiled, moving the dog out of the way of the door by his collar. "That's Mojo. He's a real tough dog and a great judge of character."

The Dunmer knelt down and gave him a hug.

"Um. I'm Davion, a new recruit. You are?"

"Llensi Llaram. Fighter's Guild through and through," she replied somewhat automatically. "We all sort of get used to Mojo though. He's kind of this guild's adopted pet."

"You say he's a good judge of character?" Davion asked.

"Some of the older members take that rather seriously. If Mojo had started growling they would have been very suspicious of you. But it seems you passed the test," Llensi smiled. "I'm sorry you must be busy. We can talk later."

As odd as that encounter was, it would not come close to comparing with Arvena Thelas. She was also a Dunmer and if it hadn't been for his friendship with Modryn Oreyn he would have sworn all the folk of Morrowind were insane.

She did have a problem with rats in her basement. However it was not quite what he had expected.

"That's right! Rats! In my basement," she cried hysterically. "And something has been killing them! It's horrible. My poor babies! You must do something!"

At this Davion took an imperceptible step back. He didn't dare say that the thing he wanted to do was inform the guard that there was a madwoman loose.

"I don't know what I'd do without them. Their little pink noses and their scaly tails. Please. Get to the basement and find out what's happening."

Davion wasted no time. He was eager for this contract to be done. He went down into her basement and heard the squeaking of at least four rats. He heard a growl and lifted his claymore.

To his utter amazement there was a mountain lion- a full-grown mountain lion- attacking the rats. He cut the lion down before the beast even took notice of him and made sure that the rats were okay.

A quick visual scan confirmed this and he made his way upstairs to talk to Arvena who was more adamant than ever.

"A mountain lion? In my basement? But… how? That's not possible. But, it happened! What if there are more? What if it wasn't alone? Where there's one there will be more. Find Pinarus Inventius. He's a hunter, and knows this area inside and out. He'll know what to do," she ordered excitedly.

Technically, Davion was still under contract and so grudgingly he made his way to the Count's Arms, a pub, where he might find this Pinarus. After some chatting with the barkeep he discovered that Pinarus was out on a hunt at this very moment. Davion left the main gate and saw Pinarus not 200 yards away firing his bow.

As Pinarus went to claim the game, a fine deer that his arrow had struck, Davion walked up to him.

"Nice shot," Davion nodded.

"Thank you. Pinarus Inventius; marksman, woodsman and hunter at your service," he said, extending his free hand.

Davion took it. "Davion, Fighter's Guild."

Davion explained about the mountain lion in Arvena Thelas's house.

"Mountain lions? Here? Odd. If they're around I can find them. Come with me. A hunt will do us good, and maybe make that old nut feel better," Pinarus nodded.

The two men walked through the tall, golden grass fields of the plains near Anvil. The Gold Coast was aptly named. A tree or boulder here or there, but mainly the sweet summer air and the brilliant plains.

This was the life as far as Davion was concerned. Sea air filling your lungs, the sound of the waves and the wind through the grass. If Pinarus was right about one thing, this hunt was doing his old heart good.

Pinarus raised his hand near a circle of boulders on the back side of the walls of Anvil.

"If they're anywhere this is the place," Pinarus said. He rose his sword. "Probably no more than three or four of them."

Davion lifted his claymore. They jumped over the boulders and were in the midst of a lions den. As Pinarus had predicted, four of the beasts met their charge with an alarmed response. Pinarus cleaved the first ones tail off, finishing him with a quick strike to the neck while Davion struck another down with his claymore.

The hissing of the third came too late and Pinarus suffered a deep bite in his shin. Cursing loudly, Pinarus turned and dispatched the beast with his dagger. The fourth leapt at Davion, knocking him back against a rock. His claymore slipped from his hands. Just as the great cat was prepared to take a bite out of Davion's head, the beast slumped down and fell over, an arrow in the back of his head.

"Good shot," Davion nodded again.

Pinarus returned his nod. "That should be them all. I can't imagine more in this area."

Davion was amazed to see him still walking, but then as a hunter he must be used to all kinds of injuries.

"Go tell Arvena this is all taken care of. Good hunting," Pinarus waved as he made his way down the coast.

But, of course, it wasn't over yet. As soon as he returned to her house, Davion heard Arvena screaming. He rushed down to the basement where the poor woman watched helplessly as another lion began to feast on the rats.

Davion wasted no time in dispatching this beast. Arvena now seemed more deranged than ever.

"Thank the gods you killed that thing. This is ridiculous! Someone's out to get me, to get my poor babies! I'll bet it's that Quill-Weave next door."

"Quill-Weave?" Davion asked.

"She's the one. She's never liked me or my sweet little pets. I know it's her. I've even seen her sneaking around in back of my house at night."

"Well then fine. I'll stick around here until evening falls and we'll just see," Davion said.

**The Colovian Highlands…**

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Saryn was having an unusual day. Having slept in a tree during the morning she made her way north. However the sight of another Oblivion gate made her veer off to the east. She was not prepared to deal with more Daedra.

Wandering through the valleys she found herself on the southernmost extreme of the Colovian Highlands, a few hours north would lead her to the Imperial Nature Preserve. She groaned in annoyance, she did not want to hunt in this area and so headed south again, determined that she would find the next road she could and simply head to Anvil. The sea air would do her good and she could eat all the fish she wanted.

It was at this time that she stumbled upon Shadrock Farm. Night was fast approaching and she decided to try and barter a room with the owner Thoreley Aethelred. Thorley was an interesting man, to put it delicately. His first offer Saryn politely declined, and the conversation turned south from there.

The final agreement was made after Thoreley noticed Saryn's weaponry. During the course of the conversation she had made it her business to make it ever more obvious.

"You're a hunter then? Perhaps you can help me. There have been bears in this area and they've been eating my flock of sheep," Thoreley explained. "Hunt them all down. There's about five or six of them. Bring me their fangs as proof you've done the job and you're welcome to a night in my guest bedroom."

Saryn agreed, exhaustedly and set out on the hunt. The first bear she spotted about fifteen minutes north of the farm. She dispatched it easily from a distance and removed its front two fangs with her dagger. Following pawprints northwest of that location she stumbled upon a pack of three of them huddled around a campsite. Apparently they had enjoyed a very different meal today.

She sent an arrow into the first one. This alarmed the other two and the bear that was hit started growling angrily. Saryn jumped from her perch and finished the deed with her dagger.

One of the two that were startled sent a massive paw her way, knocking her back onto the grass. She rolled with the blow, giving herself some distance and quickly shot two arrows into its head. The third one was charging fast and tackled her before she could react. They both rolled down a large hill. Saryn managed to come out of the fall relatively unscathed, but the bear was not so lucky. He hit a boulder on the way down, cracking his skull open.

Saryn retrieved the fangs from these three and made a guess that the bears were likely no further north than this. Turning south she passed Shadrock Farm again and saw two more sets of pawprints. She followed them southeast and saw that one of the bears had already been dispatched by an Imperial Forester, who was now under attack by the second. She shot the bear with an arrow just as the bear was about to strike a lethal blow to the Forester.

The man thanked her and had no problem offering her the fangs of the bears as trophies.

Well, as it turned out Thoreley Aethelred was not exactly a man of his word. He had no guest bedroom, but kindly offered Saryn a book as a reward for her hard work. A book which she proceeded to hit him over the head with.

She found a comfortable looking oak tree a few miles southwest of Kvatch, sighed about spending another evening in a tree, and settled down for the night.

**Imperial City Waterfront…**

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R'darra returned to the Waterfront, but it was not to the triumphant Thieve's Guild welcome she had expected. The Waterfront was crawling with soldiers, all asking everybody they could find about the Grey Fox and Armand Cristophe. Heironymus Lex himself was offering a bounty of gold for the person who turned him over.

Ka'sis sat in his usual spot under the solitary tree on the backside of the Waterfront.

"Ka'sis? What's going on here?" R'darra asked.

Ka'sis hissed. "I'm sure I don't know the specifics. I am not a member of the Thieve's Guild, just a humble beggar. But it would seem that your last mission was a trap."

"What?" R'darra demanded.

"Find Methredel. She's a member now, you know. She should be able to give you more details. And hurry. You don't want to be asked to empty your pockets I am sure."

R'darra thanked Ka'sis and headed towards Methredel's house. She knocked once and the door was open. Methredel nodded and invited her in.

"What is going on?" R'darra asked.

"Relax. Everything is going according to plan," Methredel explained calmly.

R'darra scowled. Everything most certainly did not appear to be going according to plan.

"R'darra, listen. The Gray Fox has known for sometime that there is a traitor in our midst. Somebody who has been reporting to Heironymus Lex. So he set up the mission in Cheydinhal as a fake. There was no contract," Methredel explained.

"But I don't understand. Why me?" R'darra asked.

"The actual member of the Thieve's Guild who did the job was irrelevant. Armand would be blamed for the job by this traitor. Having somebody else do it gave Armand time to get into hiding, which he has now done," Methredel nodded. "Now we are going to expose this traitor, shake suspicion from Armand, and get these Legion pigs out of the Waterfront in one fell swoop."

"Alright," R'darra nodded, sitting down. "What do you want me to do?"

"You have the bust of Lady Cheydinhal correct?"

"Yes."

"The traitor's name is Myvryna Avano.. You must plant the bust of Countess Cheydinhal in her house and then report her to Heironymus Lex himself," Methredel explained.

"But he will not trust me."

"Maybe not. But he will have no choice but to investigate. Do this now and Armand will be cleared of all charges. Now get to it."

R'darra had no trouble at all with the first part of the mission. Sneak into Myvryna's house and drop off the bust. Simple enough work for an experienced thief. The tricky part was dealing with Heironymus.

"What's this? Have you suddenly grown a conscience in the past two nights?" Heironymus laughed when R'darra made the report. "Besides I have no reason to trust you."

R'darra was in no mood to be trifled with. "You are the only one who seems to think I am involved in any illicit affairs, Captain. I have never had any charges filed against me. Showing your prejudice, I think."

"Oh come off it. Don't embarrass us both with this nonsense about you and your friend Ka'sis being nothing more than poor mistreated little urchins."

"I don't care what you think of me Captain, only that you will do you duty as a Captain of the Guard and investigate any possible lead. After all, suppose my tip off is correct. What would people think when they realize you could have caught this culprit much sooner?"

Heironymus rubbed his chin. He then spoke more to himself than R'darra. "No. It can't be. She's my…" Heironymus noticed R'darra again. "That is I've no reason to suspect her. Very well I will investigate your claim. If you are wrong I will fine you for filing a false report."

"That's your prerogative, Captain," R'darra smirked.

The two strolled down to Myvryna's house. Myvyrna was just returning home and rather alarmed to see the Captain of the Guard and what she knew to member of the Thieve's Guild approaching her.

"Heironymus? What are you doing?" Myvryna asked.

"Investigating. Step aside," Heironymus said as he entered her home. He uncovered the bust within moments. "So R'darra was telling the truth. It was you all along, and you were just trying to pass the blame onto Armand! And after you've been giving me all this information I never expected this of you."

"You fool! Don't you realize? This was a trick! You've just ousted me to the Thieve's Guild," Myvryna shouted.

"It amounts to the same thing," Heironymus said somewhat carelessly. "Either way you are no longer any use to me. You'll be coming with me. And you."

Heironymus turned to R'darra.

"You are free to go," Heironymus said as though it disgusted him greatly.

**Imperial City Waterfront…**

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Azeg-Rael awoke in a crate in the Marie Elena, a pirate ship docked at the Imperial City Waterfront.

The previous night he had been given the assignment to kill the pirate leader, Captain Gaston Tussaud. Everybody in the Brotherhood seemed to have their own ideas on the best way to tackle this objective.

Gogron wanted Azeg-Rael to just charge in and slay all the pirates.

"There's no chance for a bonus anyways; you can have more fun that way," he insisted.

Teinaava mentioned that there was a balcony on the bow of the ship that led straight into the Captain's Cabin. This was good advice, although how Azeg-Rael was going to stealthily climb onto the backside of this vessel was something he didn't have an answer for.

In the end, he chose to just cram himself in one of the crates and wait for them to load the ship at nightfall, which they did. He emerged from the crate less than gracefully, making perhaps a bit more noise than he should have, but the guard watching the crates was silenced before he could alert the others.

Azeg-Rael snuck along the shadows of the interior of the ship until he finally made his way to the Captain's Cabin. Captain Tussaud was eating his midday meal. He had just enough time to move his hand down towards his Cutlass when the Blade of Woe found his throat.

The kill was quick and clean, the dread pirate uttered not so much as a final syllable before life left him. Azeg-Rael wiped the blood off the blade and smiled at his handiwork.

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door. Azeg-Rael turned and heard the voices of the concerned pirates.

"Captain? We heard banging. Are you alright?"

Azeg-Rael saw the exit to the balcony behind him, but he stood his ground. Three of the pirates burst in and shouted at the sight of their dead captain.

"You!" The first mate shouted, a brazen dunmer woman carrying a cutlass. "What have you done?"

"That was business," Azeg-Rael chuckled. He walked calmly up to the first mate. She slashed at him with her sword but he caught the hilt with his hand and tore it away from her. As the other two pirates watched on in horror, Azeg-Rael stroked the cheek of the woman and hissed. "But this will be for pleasure."

**Imperial City Arena…**

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Borin was not bloodthirsty. He was tough, he liked a good fight now and then, but he took no pleasure in killing others… unless they really deserved it. He had been unsure about the arena because of the policy that all matches must end in death.

However actually being there in the heat of battle somehow incensed him, bringing his primal instincts of murder alive. The Nord he was fighting was no slouch with a Blade, slashing at Borin and getting a good slash in now and then. Borin's hammer was always a bit too slow to make more than a slight contact.

Sweat was pouring over him, his heart was racing. The scent of blood that had been trailing in his nostrils from the moment he entered the Bloodworks seemed to intensify exponentially. He had become a killing machine. The only thing he knew was that this person in front of him must die.

With one mighty flourish his hammer smashed the chest of the Nord who fell over on the ground. His sword was nowhere near him and he couldn't move. And Borin stopped for a moment.

The man was defeated, the battle was over. Was this man's death really necessary?

"It's a disgrace not to finish it," came a soft voice from behind him.

An old woman was walking up behind him from the Bloodworks. Borin could not comprehend what somebody like her was doing in a place like this.

"I'm Ysabel, the Battle Matron," she said, answering his unasked question. "I know what you're thinking. The same thing as every softhearted fool who ever walked into this ring. You can spare him. The battle's over and you've won.

"It's not that simple. The men come into this arena knowing that they can die. It makes them feel alive. If you remove that element from this place, it loses its meaning. The spectators certainly won't care for it.

"We may play at being kind-hearted individuals but there is a glory in battle and if you remove this man the right to die by steel, the life he will live beyond it will be nothing but shame."

The Nord reached slowly for his short sword. His hand clasped around it and he swung it up at Borin, carving a great scar in his arm.

Borin lifted his hammer, closed his eyes, and smashed his hammer down one last time.

"You should quit," Ysabel hissed. "This is not the career for you."

**Shrine of Peryite…**

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Cierra arrived at the shrine of the Daedric Prince Peryite and found an odd sight awaiting her. Five followers of Peryite stood around the shrine, perfectly still. This would not have disturbed her if it was not apparent that some of the people were mid-motion.

The statue of the dragon spoke into her mind:

"_This one moves! A welcome change. So, mortal, you have found my shrine, and you have seen my followers. They are an embarrassment to me. The fools cast a spell in the hopes of summoning me to them. It was prideful and foolish, and it has had its consequences. My followers are trapped between worlds; their bodies here on this plane, their souls in Oblivion. I would have you reunite the bodies and the souls. I will transport you to the plane of Oblivion in which they are trapped. Find their souls. When all are collected, I will return you here. Return to me when you are prepared."_

Cierra saw a fiery gate appear in front of the statue. Rumors had reached her ears of a similar gate in Kvatch from whence monstrous creatures came, but none seemed to be flowing from this one. She touched the fiery gate and felt the uncomfortable swooping sensation of teleportation, landing on barren rock.

The smell of fire and sulfur, the sound of that terrible heat lightning; it was a terrible sight. Cierra looked around and found that she was on a ring-shaped island cast upon a sea of lava. Behind her there was a blue gate, perhaps the way back to Cyrodiil.

As she venture around she saw the avatar of one of the followers cowering in fear as two large reptiles began snarling at it, preparing to attack. Cierra rushed in slashing the back of the first one with her short sword. The second bit at her arm, but she snapped it back in time and spun round deliver a second killing blow with her blade.

"Thank goodness you came. Those creatures might have killed me!" The man cried in gratitude.

"Not likely," Cierra replied coolly. "Your attempt to summon Peryite has trapped you within Oblivion in spirit only. Your body remains in Cyrodiil."

"But… how can that be?" The man asked.

"It is the reason why even the wisest mages do not tamper with magic beyond their understanding," Cierra replied creating a fireball within her hand and blasting it through the shadow of the man at massive Atronach made of ice.

The man looked down and patted himself. "I… I see. You have made your point quite, erm, pronouncedly."

Cierra pointed in the direction of the gate to Cyrodiil and moved along the island. Retrieving the other four followers was more of the same. Only one gave Cierra a bit of trouble as he was rather insistent on trying to write down the account of his adventure; apparently not grasping the concept of his condition.

"_You have returned my followers, mortal. The natural order is restored, and for this, I thank you. Perhaps they have learned the folly of attempting to touch a Daedra Prince. Take this, with my blessing. May it bring you order."_

And appearing in a soft blue light in front of the statue was an elaborate golden shield, the words Spell Breaker etched on the backside. She had read of this shield but could not believe that it was a Daedric Artifact. It was a legendary shield that would block magical attacks. This was a worthy addition to her armaments indeed.

**Bruma…**

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On his way out of Chorrol, Will was accosted by a man named Reynald Jemane. He was walking home from a stroll in the woods carrying a tankard of ale in one hand and a rude gesture in the other.

"What do you mean you seen me in Cheydinhal!" He shouted. "You mean imposter. I ain't never been to Cheydinhal in my life. And I don't have no time for this nonsense."

Will shrugged off that unpleasant encounter with the man and found his way to chilly alpine town of Bruma. The next vendor he had to speak to was an Altmer by the name of Suurootan.

The man wasn't firm or decisive, he was downright stubborn. He did not haggle so much as repeat the same price and over and over for his wares. He would not concede on any of Will's demands and finally Will was forced to consider him a lost cause.

"Look I'm not shelling out 543 gold for what you have to offer, I would lose money selling it back. I'm barely scraping a profit at 400, which is- and shall always be- my final offer," Will explained. "Now if you can't see fit to agreeing to that more than reasonable price I can find another vendor."

"Don't think you can fool me. This stuff is worth almost double along the Gold Coast. Sailors will by this stuff for thrice what I am charging you," Suurootan insisted.

"Which is all well and good if sailors were my clientele, but my store is in the town proper not on the docks. I sell to the locals, who have no desire to drop 15 gold per unit on your goods. Now are you resolute in your demands or shall I bid you good day?" Will insisted.

Suurootan gave a haughty little sniff and Will considered himself excused. He made his way to the nearest pub he could find and ordered a pint.

"Well," he thought. "At least that gives me more gold to barter at Cheydinhal."

Suurootan's refusal to meet his demands had hurt him, but not as much as the loss of Seed-Neeus's business would have. He counted his blessings and continued to down pint after pint…

**Weynon Priory…**

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Ignin and Martin arrived at Weynon Priory to see the buildings under attack by a small squad of red-garbed men. They rushed in to the priory and Ignin and Martin ran after them.

Inside four of these men were holding Jauffre at knifepoint. One of them insisted, in a dark voice.

"You will tell us where the heir is, or-"

"Or what exactly?" Ignin shouted, letting an arrow fly, striking the man square in the head. He fell back against the altar, dead.

"Excellent timing," Jauffre smiled, raising a Dai-Katana from his back. "You take the ones on the left, eh?"

The battle was over in a manner of moments, Jauffre moving with speed and dexterity defying his age. This man was truly a worthy protector of the Emperor.

"There were more," Jauffre sighed. "They killed Brother Maborel and ran off with the Amulet of Kings." He looked up and saw Martin. "But you must be Martin Septim."

Martin nodded, "So I am told."

"So we have lost the Amulet and gained the heir. This priory will be no good to us as a defense. Though truly no place is safe against the enemy leveled against us," Jauffre pondered for a moment. "Still it is fitting. We must go now to Cloud Ruler Temple north of Bruma. It is a stronghold of the Blades. A few men can hold it against an army. It might give us a fighting chance."

"Very well then," Ignin nodded. "Lead the way."


	5. Chapter 5: Cloud Ruler Temple

Chapter V: Cloud Ruler Temple

**Frostcrag Spire…**

_23 Frost Fall 4E21_

"So the enemy had the Amulet of Kings?" The Bosmer asked.

"Yes," Aywin nodded. "And without that Martin could not light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One, protecting Cyrodiil from Oblivion."

"Then why did the enemy not simply destroy the Amulet?"

Aywin smiled. "That would have certainly been a feat. Nobody knew, at that time, how it could be done. And besides the man who took the Amulet had larger plans for it. But we will delve into that another time."

The Bosmer nodded his head, contented.

"Now, Cloud Ruler Temple," Aywin said and she walked towards her balcony, beckoning the others to follow her.

On the ground in front of them were nine stone circles each marked with the talismans of the eight cities of Cyrodiil and the Imperial City. Aywin pointed over these stones westward along the Jerall Mountain range.

In the clear moonlight the three men could see the outline of a stone figure several dozen miles to the west of their current location.

"Of course it has long since been abandoned now that there is no Emperor to defend," Aywin began. "But that was the place where Martin Septim spent the remainder of his days."

**Cloud Ruler Temple…**

_30 Last Seed 3E433_

The trek through the frosted forests near Bruma had been a bleak affair. Martin had barely uttered a word, such was his complete disbelief of the situation. Jauffre was undoubtedly still mourning the loss of Brother Maborel, who had perished in the attack. And Ignin still had this bizarre sense of feeling completely out of place.

In the past three days he had awoken with no memory of his surroundings inside a prison, witnessed the death of the Emperor, been charged with a quest upon which the fate of the world depended, seen a city burnt to rubble by demonic enemies from another realm, and now he found himself intruding upon the hallowed ground of Cloud Ruler Temple.

The massive stone gates towered above them. They opened slowly and a guard came out to greet them. He rushed up to Jauffre and then took a look at Martin.

"Grandmaster is this…?"

"Yes, Cyrus," Jauffre nodded. "This is the Emperor's son, Martin Septim."

Cyrus walked over to Martin and bowed. "My lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. We've not had the honor of an Emperor's visit in many years!"

Martin was thoroughly caught off guard at being addressed as "Emperor". He stumbled over his words. "Ah, well… thank you. The honor is mine."

Jauffre turned to Martin and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "Come. Your Blades are waiting to greet you."

Inside the gates were a set of massive stone stairs that led up at least a hundred feet. Torches lined the side and seemed to warm the very bone as the four men ascended the stairs.

At the top of these stairs was the temple itself. A relatively small building, but strategically positioned in the crux of the mountain. Jauffre was right. From this vantage point any invader would have no choice but to attempt to siege the main gate.

Blades had lined up along the side of the small stone courtyard. Martin and Jauffre took their place at the front of this formation. Cryrus moved onto one of the side flanks and Ignin, not sure where else he should go, stood opposite of Cyrus.

Jauffre spoke to the formation. "Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim."

At this the Blades raised their swords and shouted praises to Martin. "Hail Martin Septim!" and "Hail Dragonborn!" rang across the silent mountain and seemed to echo throughout the Imperium. It reminded Ignin unpleasantly of the time he had announced the Emperor's death in Aleswell.

"Your highness," Jauffre said to Martin. "The Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne."

Martin turned to Jauffre and nodded. He then turned to the formation. "Jauffre. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best but this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches, but I want you all to know I appreciate your welcome. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you."

Jauffre nodded encouragingly. "Well then. Thank you, Martin." He turned to the Blade standing to his right. "We'd all best get back to our duties, eh Captain?"

And with that, the formation dispersed.

Martin walked over to Ignin and shrugged. "Not much of a speech was it. Didn't seem to bother them though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim…I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you." He sighed. "But everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea…"

Ignin placed his hand on Martin's shoulder but withdrew it. He got the feeling that Martin was growing tired of that particular encouraging gesture.

"The Amulet of Kings," Ignin said. "The enemy has it. We need to get it back."

"Of course," Martin nodded. "So we…I… can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion."

"And then you will be Emperor," Ignin added.

"The Emperor. That's an idea that will take some getting used to. In any case we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start." 

As if he had heard Martin, Jauffre approached them. Martin nodded and headed inside the temple. Jauffre gave Ignin a serious, appraising look.

"You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order. Will you join us?"

It was Ignin's turn to stumble over his words. "A Blade… but I…"

Jauffre said nothing, but let Ignin's mind turn over the new information he had just received. What was he to do now? He could certainly not abandon Martin now, when the battle was just beginning. And it was not as though he had anywhere to go. He could not remember anything about himself anyways.

"Very well," Ignin nodded. "I suppose I haven't got much of a choice anyways."

Jauffre smiled. "There are always choices to be made, Ignin."

**Cheydinhal Sanctuary…**

_30 Last Seed 3E433_

Azeg-Rael arrived at the sanctuary a bit later than he had anticipated. He had not expected to be stopped by a Legion guard just outside the Waterfront. Just as Azeg-Rael was preparing to take him down, the guard smiled and said, "Give my thanks to Ocheeva."

The pirates must have been giving the guard a hard time

The sanctuary was as lively as ever. Gogron was out on a mission, but Teinaava, Antoinetta and M'raaj-Dar were having a very loud conversation in the main hall.

"So is it true?" Teinaava asked, chuckling.

"What?" M'raaj-Dar asked, with a slight smirk.

"We heard you had some complications with your last contract," Antoinetta smiled.

"Yes, well I was not expecting an entire squad of Legion guards to show up in the middle of my duty," M'raaj-Dar chuckled. "But I certainly had fun cleaning up my own mess."

"Well if there's one thing you're good for it's getting yourself out of tight spots," Antoinetta laughed.

Teinaava noticed Azeg-Rael first. "Ah, if it isn't the budding Murderer back from his first contract."

M'raaj-Dar sniffed angrily and returned to his usual spot on the second floor landing.

"How did it go?" Antoinetta asked.

Azeg-Rael grimaced.

"Oh never mind him, he's always rude to the new ones," Antoinetta chuckled.

Azeg-Rael decided not to press the point that it was actually _her _that he was annoyed with, and continued. "Well enough. The Captain is dead, as are his accomplices."

"That is quite impressive. Pirates are no slouch with blades," Teinaava smiled.

"Neither am I," Azeg-Rael said simply, moving towards the stairwell leading down to Vicente's room. Teinaava nodded respectfully.

Vicente seemed quite pleased with Azeg-Rael's work, and yet Azeg-Rael was unsure of how Vicente could already know. Azeg-Rael wrote this off as something that he felt would understand later.

"So, the pirate has been eliminated. Excellent. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased," Vicente smiled. "Now perhaps you should get some re-"

"I want another contract," Azeg-Rael said assertively, although keeping his tone respectful.

Vicente raised his eyebrows. "The thrill of murder can be overwhelming to some, but to others it is more like a drug. They can't seem to get enough of it. You will find that the high wears off unless you have the proper attitude."

"Perhaps," Azeg-Rael nodded. "But you have another contract for me, do you not?"

Vicente grinned almost unwillingly. "As a matter of fact I do. We need you to stage an… accident. Kill the target in the manner specified. The target is a Wood Elf named Baenlin. He lives in a house in Bruma with his manservant Gromm. On the second floor is a door leading to a crawlspace. Inside are the fastenings of a mounted head that hangs over Baenlin's favorite chair. I think you see where I am going with this."

Azeg-Rael nodded.

"Now we would prefer you to kill Baenlin in the manner we have laid out for you. It will be written off as an accident, something the client specifically requested. Also, we have no desire to see the manservant, Gromm, killed. So please, use stealth, something which you have already shown aptitude for," Vicente said.

"I will make it happen. I shall leave for Bruma at once," Azeg-Rael bowed.

**Anvil, Fighter's Guild…**

_30 Last Seed 3E433_

"I guess if you make enough crazy claims one is bound to be right," Azzan sighed.

Davion had sat behind the old loon's house for three straight hours, barely moving a muscle. But sure enough, as Arvena had claimed, her Argonian neighbor named Quill-Weave had come behind her house in the middle of the night and placed rotten meat in a small hole near her cellar wall.

When confronted, Quill-Weave had insisted that she had not meant to lure mountain lions into the basement, but only to lure the rats out, so that the town Watch would dispose of them. This seemed a reasonable excuse, and Davion felt no need to rat out the poor woman who swore never to do it again.

Arvena seemed uneasy, but grateful that the problem was over. She began bricking up the hole in the cellar wall that evening.

"That makes my second completed contract. Please tell me my next assignment will be more interesting," Davion said almost pleadingly.

"Actually yeah," Azzan nodded. "I have one more contract for you to take care of, but it's risky."

"Finally," Davion sighed cheering up immensely. "Not that I'm not grateful mind you, but Modryn spun me tales of adventure and excitement hunting down wild beasts and taking care of dangerous people."

"What happened to the broken down old buffer that Modryn told me about?" Azzan asked, with a hint of a smile.

"He got a sword," Davion nodded. "What's the contract?"

"Norbert Lelles. He's a shopkeeper. Owns Lelles' Quality Merchandise. He's been having some trouble with break-ins apparently. I hope you're ready for a sleepover. It's already one in the morning," Azzan chuckled.

The docks seemed to be a very different atmosphere from the city proper. Sailors chatted loudly, and rudely, and even fought openly with the Guard merely watching on not willing to try and arrest them.

Lelle's store was a beaten down old shack on the waterfront. The sign out front read: "Lelles' Quality Mercandise." A tiny "h" had been scratched on between the "c" and "a" in "Mercandise" to try and correct the spelling error, but this was quite obvious.

As Davion walked in the store, Lelles sang out merrily over the rattle of pots and pans from the back of the store: "Be right with you!"

Lelles emerged from the storeroom and spun right into his mercantile theatrics. "Welcome to Lelles' Quality Merchandise, the finest wares for you hard earned septims!" He faltered and smiled innocently. "Oh, and perhaps you've seen the sign out front. Bit of bad luck that."

"I'm sorry I'm not a customer. I'm with the Fighter's Guild. I hear you've been having some troubles?" Davion asked.

"Ah yes that. I've lost a great deal of merchandise over the last few months; I keep replacing it, but they keep stealing it, new locks on the doors be damned! They keep coming in at night, after I've gone to bed. I would like you to wait in the shop overnight and see if you can catch them in the act," Lelles instructed.

"Very well. But I insist that you do not pay me unless I actually catch somebody," Davion nodded.

Lelles smiled and nodded. "I can see the caliber of people they have in the Fighter's Guild. I was right to choose you for this job."

And with that Lelles left the store, leaving Davion to wonder what he had meant when he said he chose the Fighter's Guild.

Davion, of course, did not sleep. This would be counterproductive. He was still on Fighter's Guild time. He made a mental note to start taking a break between contracts, as the loss of sleep was beginning to take a toll on him; he wasn't a young man anymore.

Then, at four in the morning, he heard a creaking at the door. The door slowly slid open and three thugs crept inside. Davion waited until they had shut the door behind them to announce himself.

"Evening kids," Davion said confidently in a loud voice.

The first one jumped and the second raised his dagger automatically.

"Is he with the Watch?" The third asked.

"I'm Fighter's Guild, I'm twice any of your ages, and I'm a little cranky. Missed my naptime, you see. So why don't you just surrender so we can put an end to all this," Davion said.

The three men chose to fight, and died in the battle. Davion's many evenings of practicing in the garden under the moonlight, and his two recent encounters with monsters had proven to be more skill than any of these petty criminals had. They fell within minutes, one after the other.

Davion sighed sheathing his claymore. "Damn kids. You threw away your lives for a few coins."

**Fort Blueblood**

_30 Last Seed 3E433_

Alessia's task with the Leyawin Mage's Guild had seemed a much more serious matter than the tasks she'd been set with thus far. The menial tasks had seemed like a cakewalk compared to her current Recommendation.

The leader of the Mage's Guild, Dagail, was a troubled woman. She spoke clearly, but her thought process was unhinged. The words she said made sense unto themselves, but absolutely none in the context of the conversation. The only thing she had said which seemed to make any sort of sense during Alessia's plea for understanding was a simple phrase.

"Words are… difficult," Dagail sighed.

With the help of Agata, another mage, Alessia discovered the cause of Dagail's dementia. There was a stone called the Seer's Stone which she wore to keep voices that invaded her mind at bay. Dagail was gifted with the rare trait of mind-reading, however this was a much less controllable phenomena than Alessia had thought.

Without a Seer Stone, she could not control whose voices entered her mind, meaning that every waking moment dozens and sometimes hundreds of voices invaded her thoughts, making it impossible to have a conversation.

Agata did not have the authority to issue a recommendation, so it seemed as though Alessia's journey had come to a dead halt. She had a light dinner in the dining room, and sat next to a man named Kalthar.

Kalthar had seemed rather animated about the subject of the Seer Stone.

"Why should we be under the rule of somebody who is only kept sane by a magical trinket!" He insisted.

This was in itself suspicious, but when she had mentioned that the _magical trinket _was missing, he smiled.

"Good. Word is starting to spread. They won't be able to keep up this façade much longer."

Upon returning to Dagail and Agata, Agata seemed unnerved by this callousness as well.

"He also mentioned somebody named Maduin," Alessia said. "Who was that?"

Agata frowned. "Maduin? That's Dagail's father."

"Blood ran blue… what was my sires must be mine," Dagail whimpered.

"Dagail?" Agata asked.

"Blood ran blue," she repeated.

"Blueblood?" Agata asked. "Do you mean Fort Blueblood?"

And so here was Alessia, sneaking her way through a decrepit tomb. A massive stone fort and beneath it a hideout for Marauders. Though she was a Guild Mage, Destruction magic was her least proficient. Some said that was a good thing, that the only people who ever truly got good at Destruction magic were usually dark wizards and necromancers. That spark of purity inside her kept her from using violent magic except in the most necessary of circumstances.

Others criticized her for her lack of common sense. That sooner or later she would need Destruction magic and she should be studying harder.

This certainly seemed like a good time to use some destruction magic as she had so far only been able to sneak around one guard. Another had caught her, but before he could shout a warning to the others he was silenced by a bolt of lightning.

In a large hallway, she found a troop of marauders, at least five strong by the sound of their voices. She was trapped, there was no way she could take all of them at once.

"What have we here?" Shouted a dark elf marauder as he jumped down behind Alessia and grabbed her wrist.

"Let go of me!" Alessia shouted.

"A little girl's lost her way into our happy home," The Dunmer crooned, pulling Alessia closer.

Before Alessia could even begin to think of a spell, the other Marauders had surrounded her. The warlord was an orc who seemed to have a bad temper about more than just the intruder.

"I don't have time for brats right now. Just tie her up and set her down for now," the Orc insisted.

Alessia's wrists were bound behind her with a small cord. Her ankles were wrapped up using the same twine as bowstring. They set her down against a wall.

"Should we blindfold her?" One of the marauders asked.

"No need. She's already seen all of our faces. We'll deal with her in a minute," the Dunmer nodded. "So, boss, what are your plans?"

"Black Brugo is dead. Mogens is dead. The Black Bow Bandits are being hunted down one by one and slaughtered by some mad knight. And if that isn't the worst, the Blackwood Company has been hired as well. If we don't something soon, we'll lose our foothold in the Niben Bay," The orc said.

Alessia struggled against her bonds, but she did not know any spell that could undo ropes, and any attempt to cast something in front of them would simply result in her being killed.

She had to think of a way out of this. Whichever spell she did cast could have to both undo her bonds, and give her a moment to escape. But her knowledge of spells was still very fresh, and there was no such spell in her immediate memory.

"The Blackwood Company!" A Bosmer cried. "They've just been stealing jobs from the Fighter's Guild."

"They're worse than the Fighter's Guild," The Orc said. "They're merciless. You heard about what happened to Azani Blackheart."

There was a murmur of assent.

"So what are we going to do? Just hold out here. One last stand?" A Khajitt asked.

"We aren't beaten yet. We still have at least one hundred men. That's more than enough to launch a counter-attack," The Orc insisted. "But we'll need to be patient. Rowlan," he pointed the Dunmer. "Take these instructions to our associate. You know who I'm talking about. Do not read them yourself, understood? Do everything he tells you to do."

"Yes, sir," The Dunmer nodded. He moved towards the exit, running his hand across Alessia's cheek as he went.

Once the Dunmer was out of sight the Orc continued talking. "Hopefully Rowlan succeeds his mission and we'll be able to move to the next phase of the operation."

"A counter-attack on Leyawin, sir? But what of these strange gates opening up everywhere? And that door in the bay-"

The Bosmer was cut off by the Orc grunting. "They are immaterial to us. In fact they might actually work to our advantage. A distraction of some kind. We'll await our orders. Rest up and get some food."

The men did as they were told. Two of them went straight to bedrolls as though they'd been up for days before the conversation. The Khajitt sat down next to Alessia.

"What should we do with her?" He asked.

"Leave her. If things get desperate she'll make a good hostage," The Orc instructed.

Suddenly there was a scream. Rowlan's voice echoed through the halls of Fort Blueblood. Footsteps charged down the stairs, and into the room walked a large Orc woman in steel armor.

"It's Mazoga!" The Orc shouted.

"What a lucky coincidence! I stumble upon the fort where you were planning the counter-attack. The Count's spies do a great job," Mazoga smiled.

"The brat?" The Orc exclaimed.

But suddenly the Khajitt pulled out a dagger and untied Alessia's hands and feet. He turned around and threw the dagger into the Bosmer's heart.

All hell broke loose. Alessia jumped out of the way as Mazoga and the Khajitt tore the marauders apart. When only the Orc warlord remained, Mazoga cleaved his head straight off.

"Are you alright?" The Khajitt asked, his face suddenly more kind.

"I'm perfectly alright," Alessia nodded. She sighed. "This is embarrassing. I'm a guild mage. I should be better than this."

Mazoga shook her head. "You were outnumbered and caught by surprise. It happens to the best of us."

Alessia nodded. "Thank you for the help."

"Do you want us to escort you back to town?" Mazoga asked.

"No, I have a mission to complete," Alessia explained.

"Very well, but we can't stay to help. Rowlan's note just revealed a very serious threat to the people of Leyawin. We must inform the Count straight away," The Khajitt said.

"I understand, thank you for everything," Alessia smiled.

And with that, the two bolted up the stairs and out of Fort Blueblood.

The final room was a large crypt with several old coffins. One stood out among the rest. It was not more ornate than the others but seemed to have a central position among the heap of decaying stone.

Alessia, with some hesitation, pushed the stone lid off the coffin and saw a large blue stone attached to a golden chain, clasped firmly in the hand of a skeleton. Alessia took the stone and could have sworn for a brief moment that the skeleton was resisting, before finally letting the chain slide out of its hand.

Alessia turned back towards the stairs and let out a startled scream.

"Oh! Kalthar you scared me," Alessia sighed.

"Sorry," Kalthar grunted. "So, you found that stone eh?"

"How did you know about this one?" Alessia asked.

"I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt. I just kept on getting overlooked," Kalthar sighed. "Look, please just put it back, okay?"

"You did steal the other Seer Stone!" Alessia exclaimed.

"And cast it into the bay," Kalthar laughed darkly. "Which is what I should have done with this one, but the damn Marauders used it as their hideout. I can't let you ruin my chances, Alessia. Why are you doing this? Why are you ruining everything?"

And before Alessia had time to think she was knocked back against the far wall. Kalthar had smashed her in the stomach with a mace. Alessia's insides burned with pain as she stumbled back to her feet.

"You can't even fight your battles with magic," Alessia cursed, spitting up a small amount of blood.

"Well if you were killed magically everybody would know it was me. This way it looks like you were just killed by the Marauders. I'm not an idiot," Kalthar grinned cruelly.

The mace was high above Alessia's head now. Without thinking she cried her last hope and let a surge of lightning shoot through her fingertips. Conducted by the steel mace the force of the strike was magnified and Kalthar's fleshed seared as he screamed in pain. It was over in seconds. The ruined corpse of Kalthar now lay dead on the ground in front of her.

She had killed. The horrible truth struck her as hard as the mace. So this is what it felt like to kill a person. She knew she'd had no choice, but it was only a small comfort. She knelt down on the ground in front of her attacker. Things had changed now. She had crossed that line that she had been so firmly resisting since her journey began.

She bowed her head and wept.

**Imperial City Arena…**

30 Last Seed 3E433

It was the Gray Prince who made him stay.

Borin had been quite prepared to take the words of the Battle Matron to heart. He was prepared to pack up his belongings and return to the service of the Count of Leyawin. However, as he had finished gathering his scant belongings, a large Orcish man had approached him.

Taking one look at the fellow Orc, Borin could tell that this was an experienced warrior. Although his raiment was not like the raiment that the other combatants wore. It was ornate with gold trimmings and the main color was red rather than blue or yellow.

"Giving up after one fight?" The Orc had asked.

"I don't think this is my line of work," Borin replied casually. "I'm sorry, Borin gro-Kromlock. And you are?"

"Never heard of me?" The Orc chuckled. "You must be from out of town. I'm the Gray Prince, the current Arena Grand Champion."

"It's an honor, I guess," Borin replied, trying not to be unfriendly, although wary of the significance of that title.

"I know you got chewed out by the Battle Matron, but you gotta understand she loves all the combatants, even rookies like you," The Gray Prince explained.

"Got a funny way of showing it," Borin replied.

"It's tough love. You just don't understand arena culture is all. Because you're new. Because you, like every rookie before you, has questioned what makes death such an important part of it."

"It's all about the spectators, right? Making them happy?"

"That's only part of it. It's the part Ysabel focuses on the most. For men like me and Owyn, however, there's a much more sacred part."

Borin folded his arms. "And that is?"

"We are not murderers," The Gray Prince said calmly. "Every man and woman who enters this arena is aware of the consequence of failure."

"So?"

"So, we still engage in battle. For most of us, the thrill of death, the potential of losing our life is what makes it so engaging for us," The Gray Prince nodded. "And when we lose, do you think we suddenly change?"

"What do you mean by that?" Borin asked.

"Many of these men come from the war, or from service to our lord. Others been fighting their whole lives. They were denied the honorable passage of death by the blade. I know many seek it here."

"But that's insane," Borin protested.

The Gray Prince laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

And yet, somehow Borin understood this man more than he had understood the condescending tone of Ysabel.

"You've got natural talent," The Gray Prince said. "It'd be a shame to see somebody like you give up after only one fight is all."

The Gray Prince patted him on the shoulder and then walked back around the Bloodworks to his private quarters. Borin nodded and made his way to the Blademaster and Battle Matron's joined room.

Owyn took one look at him and nodded. "So you didn't go running home to Momma. That's a good sign I guess."

"Just sign me up, Blademaster," Borin replied.

**Bruma County Jail…**

30 Last Seed 3E433

Will awoke on the cold stone floor of the Bruma Jail. He rubbed his eyes and as he slowly tried to stand up he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his head. He had drunk too much again last night.

"Ugh, what did I do?" Will groaned.

The guard standing beside his cell grunted back. "You got a little rowdy at Olavs. Punched him in the face."

"Damn it," Will grunted. "Is he badly hurt?"

"No, Olav can take care of himself," the guard nodded. "We're only gonna keep you in here a few more hours and then you can go give him a proper apology."

"I'll do that. Thank you sir," Will nodded.

"No problem. Mind you watch out for Jorundr there," and the guard pointed towards a man laying in the corner. He was slowly stirring, undoubtedly about to wake up any moment. "I'll go grab you boys both some breakfast."

The guard left, shutting and locking the door behind to the cells behind him. The man named Jorundr rose up out of bed and rubbed his head.

"Rough night too?" Will chuckled.

"Rough couple of years," Jorundr responded coldly. "Who are you?"

Will was annoyed at the terse greeting but nodded. "Name's Will. You must be Jorundr?"

"The guard likes to talk," Jorundr grunted. "But yes, I am Jorundr."

"What's got you in such a mood?" Will asked. "What are you in for?"

Jorundr sighed. "I suppose I can trust you. In fact, maybe you can help me with a bit of problem. And make some money for yourself in the process."

"How's that?" Will asked.

"I'm in here for the long haul. They got me for murder, even though I didn't do it. And once the Count makes a ruling, there's no way its changing. I owe all of this to that heartless treacherous witch, Arnora." 

"What did she do to you?" Will asked.

"I'll tell you. I was betrayed. Stabbed in the back. I'm in here and Arnora's out there, living in my house," Jorundr let out another sigh and leaned back against the wall. "We were doing petty crimes all over Cyrodiil. Small scores: 10 gold here, 25 there. Nothing big enough to have them investigate you. Then along comes Arnora with a 'plan; to waylay a tax shipment for the Imperial City. We're talking serious gold, complete with armed escorts."

"I would imagine," Will nodded. "And you went along with that?"

Jorundr shrugged. "I told her she was crazy, but she insisted. Women have a way of getting men to do what they want. So we did it. We ambushed the shipment. In the process, Arnora killed the guard. I told her to be careful and just to knock them out but she didn't listen. We then buried the gold in the woods."

"And they found you?" Will asked.

"Oh they found us all right. Arnora disappears one night to get 'supplies'. Suddenly the campsite gets raided by the Bruma City Guard. There's no way they could have found us."

"She told them?" Will was leaning forward now, immensely interested.

"There's no doubt she tipped them off. But I was one step ahead. I reburied the loot while she was away. My final revenge. Or was it?" Jorundr chuckled.

"So, what are you getting at?" Will asked.

"I'll tell you. I want Arnora dead."

"What?"

"That's right I said dead. She took my life away, now I want hers taken as well. Do that for me and the money is yours. All I need for proof is that damn amulet she always wears." 

"You've got me mistaken for somebody else," Will said. "I'm not going to do this."

Jorundr shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I think if you ever meet her you might change your mind. Remember she deserves to die for more than what she did to me."

A few hours later the guard returned to release Will, as he had promised. Will walked down the street, rubbing his head at the confusing situation that had been brought before him.

He noticed that a small Breton woman was following him as he walked towards the inn. He turned around.

"What do you want?" Will asked.

The woman nodded. "By any chance have you seen Jorundr?"

"Uh, yes. He was my cellmate," Will nodded.

The woman's eyes darted back and forth as if she was pondering something. She then added. "I see. And what did he tell you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Will shrugged continuing to walk.

"My name is Arnora."

And at that Will stopped.

"I don't suppose he mentioned me at all did he?" She asked sweetly.

Will turned. "Lunatic said you were responsible for some big heist and he asked me to kill you."

"And if you did?" She asked, moving closer to him.

"Uh… he'd tell me where the gold is." Will sighed.

Arnora nodded. "Would you please come to my house for lunch? I'd like to ask a favor."

Will rubbed his head. "Look I've got to go apologize to the barman I slugged last night but then maybe I'll hear you out."

"That would be wonderful. Please don't forget," Arnora bowed and headed towards her house which happened to be only a few feet from where they were presently.

Will sighed. "I'm just a merchant people."

Back at Olav's, Will was faced with the consequences of his actions from the previous night.

"You've got some nerve coming back here," Olav grunted.

"I came to apologize," Will bowed.

Olav seemed impressed. "Well that's a first."

"I'm not normally a violent person, but I'd had too much to drink and," Will sighed. "I realize that's no excuse."

"Never mind, never mind," Olav said waving his hand in a dismissive fashion. "It happens all the time. Occupational hazard. I accept your apology."

Will nodded. "Thank you. It's not much, but I'd like you to take this as compensation."

And with that Will handed over a small pouch with 25 septims in it.

"I appreciate the gesture. I'll put this money to good use I assure you," Olav replied.

Will left and was about to head towards his cart when he'd remembered his promise to meet Arnora for lunch. He walked towards her house where he saw her waiting just outside.

"Oh good, you're here. I thought you'd forgotten," Arnora bowed.

She led him inside. Her house was frugally decorated and he could tell instantly she was destitute.

"Not all of what Jorundr told you was a lie," Arnora sighed. "We did commit several petty crimes, only stealing enough to survive. But it was Jorundr who planned the attack on the tax shipment and he who killed the guard."

"I had figured," Will nodded.

"Quite. Well what kind of proof did he ask for that you had killed me?" Arnora asked.

This seemed an odd question, but Will answered. "Um, your amulet."

"The fetcher! He knows this is my last heirloom from my family," she sighed. "But perhaps I could lend it to you. Then if you show it to him he'll tell you where the gold is hidden. And we could split it."

She was talking very fast now.

"Look I'm not going back there. I'm sorry, but I have no interest in helping either of you. I'm just a simple merchant," Will said flatly.

Arnora rubbed her hands together. "I see. Then I have no use of you."

And before he knew what was happening, she was on the attack. Will grabbed her arms and tried to pin her down but she blasted him with a bolt of magical lightning.

"Damn it!" Will shouted, falling back against the book case. He picked up a chair and threw it at her but she blasted it out the way with a firebolt.

Then, in an instant, opportunity struck. She charged up another blast of lightning and Will ducked under the table to grab his mace. He came up swinging, knocking her over the banister of the stairs to the lower level of her house. She landed with a sickening crack, her neck was broken.

Her amulet lay beside her, but Will did not bother to pick it up.

"I'm a merchant," he said rubbing his hair in a distracted way. "I earn my gold honestly, lady."

**Whitmond Farm**

30 Last Seed 3E433

Saryn had finally found a suitable place to sleep; a small farm just outside of Anvil. The matron of the farm, Maeva, had graciously offered her a place to sleep and a meal. During the course of dinner the two women got to talking about men.

"If you travel you must not have a husband?" Maeva asked.

"No," Saryn shook her head. "I've never even been in love."

"Love is overrated," Maeva sighed. "I'm married, I suppose even if he's gone our vows still remain don't they?"

Saryn tilted her head. Maeva explained. "My husband's name is Bjalfi the Contemptible. My father said I was a fool to marry him, but I didn't listen. At our wedding, my father gave him a gift as a dowry. Rockshatterr, a mace that's been in my family for many generations. Well Bjalfi took that mace from under our mantle and went off to 'find his fortune' with the local Marauder gang at Fort Strand. I want that mace back."

"I could collect it for you," Saryn said.

"I wouldn't ask you that," Maeva shook her head.

"You've given me dinner and a place to stay asking nothing in return. It would be my pleasure. It would be a shame for you to lose such a precious heirloom to a gang of thugs," Saryn said.

Maeva smiled. "You're right. Thank you so much."

Saryn picked up her bow and stood up. "I'll be back before midnight."

Fort Strand was a couple of miles to the east of Whitmond Farm. It was like any other fort, simply a ruin of days long past. A group of three Marauders sat outside, and one of them carried an ornate round mace.

"Who are you?" The man carrying Rockshatter asked.

"I'm here for Bjalfi," Saryn said.

"That's me," the man replied. "What do you want?"

"I've come to take Rockshatter back to its rightful owner," Saryn said.

"No way. I'm going to use this mace to win my fortune," Bjalfi smirked. "Get lost before I make you get lost."

"You're a Marauder camp, you must have plenty of weapons. Why not surrender the mace?" Saryn asked. "Unless you're scared about losing such a valuable treasure."

"I'm scared of nothing," Bjalfi cursed. "Come on gents, lets show this wench how we do things."

In a flash of iron two arrows shot straight through the heads of Bjalfi's rising henchmen. Her third arrow was already aimed at his forehead.

"You can take it back to her, but I know where Maeva is. I'll just go grab it and this time I'll kill her to make sure she doesn't-"

Saryn let the arrow fly and Bjalfi fell to the ground, dead.

"No," Saryn replied. "You won't."

Back at Whitmond Farm, Maeva was preparing for bed. One look at Saryn and her face lit up. "I'd already convinced myself I'd never see Rockshatter again, but I was wrong! What's become of Bjalfi?"

Saryn sighed. "I'm sorry, Maeva. He's dead."

Maeva sat down, a forlorn expression on her face. "He was a good man when I married him. But greed took a hold of his heart. While I'm not happy he's dead, I'm glad he's at peace. At least Rockshatter is back in my family again."

Saryn nodded. "What now?"

"Well I guess I'm available again. Maybe I should go find a better man," Maeva smiled.

Saryn smiled too. "Don't give up on love just yet, Maeva."

**Imperial City, Garden of Dareloth**

30 Last Seed 3E433

Armand Cristophe had been back at his usual spot, the very next night. R'darra sat against the wall watching the torchlight flicker as he took his place in the circle.

"You're late," she said dismissively.

"R'darra!" Armand smiled. "With your help we were able to uncover the informant."

R'darra hissed angrily. "I do not like being used, Armand."

Armand frowned. "I'm sorry. I could not be certain that you weren't working with Myvryna. As compensation, I promote you to the rank of Bandit, and will still give you the reward for the job, even though the bust is gone."

He handed her a small pouch with 100 gold septims inside.

R'darra sighed. "Alright. What else do you have lined up for me?"

"Actually, I have nothing else," Armand said, shaking his head. "I only work with the less experienced members of the guild. You should go see S'krivva in Bravil. You will take your jobs from her now."

And so R'darra had gone to Bravil, just as she had been instructed.


	6. Chapter 6: The Mythic Dawn

Chapter V: The Mythic Dawn

**Frostcrag Spire…**

_24 Frost Fall 4E21_

The clock struck midnight and once again Aywin stood up from her seat and moved around the room. The Bosmer and Nord could not help but admire her as she floated around the room. Her hand rested on yet another book.

Without giving any indication as to the meaning of her actions, she opened it, read a few passages silently to herself, and then closed the book.

"My lady?" The Khajitt asked.

Aywin turned, as though she had momentarily forgotten she had company, and smiled.

"Forgive me. Old tradition, and quite impossible to break even for visitors," she said. This didn't really explain anything, however she gave no indication of offering more meaning behind her words at this time.

"Do please continue, milady," The Bosmer said. "I am very curious to know what happens next."

Aywin nodded and returned to her seat. "There are those who kill out of anger or fear. There are those who kill by occupation, such as the Dark Brotherhood. But some kill to bring darkness into this world, even if they believe it to be for a greater good. At this time, one particular sect of these people called themselves the Mythic Dawn."

**Cloud Ruler Temple…**

_3 Hearthfire 3E433_

Martin, Jauffre and Ignin sat in the Great Hall. A roaring fire in the chimney was keeping the troops warm as they went about their daily rituals. The warmth did not seem to reach the table where the three men sat hunched over maps, scrolls and books.

"What is our next move to be?" Martin asked.

"I am grateful that we have made it this far, but to be honest this fortress will only forestall the adversary, not shut him out completely," Jauffre said.

"If Martin is to light the Dragonfires, hiding him here indefinitely is not an option," Ignin said.

He now stood wearing a full set of armor specific to the Blades, except for the helmet which he found somewhat uncomfortable. At his side was his iron dagger and war axe. Strapped across his back was a refined silver shortsword, and his bow. At the small of his back was a sideways hilt to hold his newest weapon, a katana- ceremonial weapon of the Blades, but powerful to be sure. His satchel, money pouch and portable alchemy kit sat on his belt. Throw in the shield and he felt more like a caravan than a soldier, but he supposed it was better to be over-prepared than under.

"I agree," Jauffre said. "Our first priority should be to get back the Amulet of Kings. Baurus has been doing some work along that front."

Ignin looked up at Jauffre who nodded. "Very well," Ignin said. "I suppose I'll return to the Imperial City and try to find Baurus."

"Be careful," Jauffre warned. "As a Blade many will view you as a symbol of respect, while others will try to put a dagger in your back."

"I know what we're up against," Ignin nodded. "I'll return with Baurus and hopefully the Amulet of Kings."

**Cheydinhal Sanctuary…**

_3 Hearthfire 3E433_

Azeg-Rael lay in bed, contemplating the murders he had been permitted so far. He had murdered the cheat, the feeble old man, the pirate captain, and the drunken highborn.

That last murder had been particularly disappointing. While he snuck through the house without being detected once and staged the crime perfectly as instructed, he did not cast the finishing blow himself directly.

Perhaps this is what Vicente meant by the thrill of murder. His bloodlust seemed to grow with each passing day. And yet for the past three days, there had been no contract. He sat in the living quarters, drinking some mead.

What a waste of his talents. Surely there must be plenty of people who he could murder in the name of Sithis. Why waste time with all of these contracts? He reached for an apple, but he felt a soft hand smack it away.

"What is this?" Azeg-Rael hissed.

"I wouldn't eat that apple if I were you," came the voice of Antoinetta Marie. "It's poisoned."

"Another of your tricks?" Azeg-Rael shrugged, reaching instead for a loaf of bread. He paused and showed it to Antoinetta who nodded. This did not exactly reassure him, but his tentative bite did not yield any horrible side effects, so he pressed on.

"We keep those apples handy for missions. Very useful. Don't worry. They're the only poisoned thing we carry around here. If you want a real apple, they're in the cupboard. Don't eat any in this barrel."

"I will bear that in mind," Azeg-Rael nodded.

He had come to terms with his fellow brothers and sisters. Antoinetta Marie was unbearably cheerful and bloodthirsty, but was at least helpful. Teinaava was crafty, but he had the most in common with him. Ocheeva was the boss, but did not seem like it, often sharing her adventures with the rest of them. Gogron was so loud and boisterous all the time, but there were a few times where even the stone-hearted Azeg-Rael found him humorous. M'raaj-Dar was determined to hate him and that was fine by him. And Vicente was calm, patient and understanding, making him an excellent mentor.

The only one he didn't see often was Telaendril, the high elf woman. She traveled often and warned she would only be back at the sanctuary once or twice a week at the most. So far, Azeg-Rael had only seen her the one time when he first met her.

As Azeg-Rael finished off the loaf, Vicente walked in.

"Do you have another contract for me?" Azeg-Rael asked immediately.

Vicente smiled, and nodded.

**Chorrol, Fighter's Guild…**

_3 Hearthfire 3E433_

It was strange being back in Chorrol after such a short time. After his work for Azzan, Davion had been promoted to Journeyman, and was told that he should report to the headquarters to speak with the Fighter's Guild head, Vilena Donton.

Modryn had been waiting for him at the gate.

"I heard you might be coming to pay us a visit. Quite some adventures I've heard you've had already," Modryn smirked.

"Adventures?" Davion asked. "More like pest control. I'm hoping you have something a bit more interesting for me. I only signed up because of all the grand times you said we'd have together."

Modryn chuckled. "Go, speak with Vilena. She'll tell you exactly what's in store for us."

As he walked into the Fighter's Guild he saw the same lively crew from the bar all now wearing suits of armor and brandishing weapons of all sorts. Some were training, others maintaining their equipment, and a few were sitting in the corner chatting.

"Settle down," came a woman's voice from the top floor. "I'll be having a meeting in a moment."

Davion could only assume she meant with him, as he was right. As soon as he rounded the last staircase he saw an older woman wearing iron armor sitting at a desk. Davion could tell in her younger days she had been not only powerful, but beautiful as well. Her eyes still had a fiery passion in them, although he could not tell if it burned for matters of the heart or sword. Probably both.

"Greetings. I see you've been keeping yourself busy. This is good. I believe it's time for you to perform some duties for your Guild."

Davion tilted his head. "What do you mean duties, madam?"

"We are a brotherhood. What affects one of us, affects us all," she began. "Fighting, drunkenness, dereliction of duty are not tolerated."

With that, Modryn came up the stairs as well.

"Ah, Modryn, just in time. You have the assignment?" She asked.

"Yes, madam," Modryn bowed. He turned to Davion. "You'll be working with me. I need you to do me a favor."

Davion nodded.

"One of your Fighter's Guild brothers, Maglir, has defaulted on a contract in Skingrad. He's raw, and a bit of a coward. I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything better. But we can't let it slide. It makes us all look bad," Modryn said.

"So I need to find him and bring him back here?" Davion asked.

"First you need to find out why he defaulted, and if he refuses to finish the contract, I need you to complete it for him."

"I understand. Will you be coming with me?"

Modryn shook his head. "I have to assist other guild members, I'm afraid. Don't worry though, this is nothing you can't handle."

Davion wasn't sure exactly where Modryn's continued faith in him came from, but nonetheless he was later that day packing up his belongings and, as soon as he had gotten there, was on his way south to Skingrad.

**Skingrad**

_4 Hearthfire 3E433_

Skingrad was an unusual place. The people who lived here all seemed strange in their own right, but none so odd as the Count Skingrad himself. Stories and rumors were heard in all parts of Skingrad that the Count was never seen about in daylight.

It was true, that the Count's wife had fallen tragically ill, and many presumed he simply never left her side, but this did not explain why all business was conducted at night, and by his Courtier whenever possible.

The journey north from Leyawin had been a trying one for Alessia. She had, of course, earned her recommendation for restoring Dagail to sanity, but she began to wonder what cost this Mage's Guild work was taking upon her.

Dagail had left her with a most cryptic warning upon regaining her senses.

"I have seen things in your future," she said. "Some things that will be, and some things that may be. It will be up to you to decide the fate of many. Life and death, both things easily manipulated, and both will be altered by your hand."

And if that weren't enough her most recent recommendation had proved quite daunting. She had been taught a lovely new fireball spell which she had been assured was only for her protection. And it had turned out she had needed to use it quite a bit.

A young Bosmer sat down at the bar next to her.

"I do love the Three Sisters," she said cheerfully, drinking from a tankard of mead. "Always a delightful place to hear the news of the day. Such as why a fresh-faced young girl like you has come all the way to Skingrad."

Alessia would have found this rude if it were not for the woman's upbeat demeanor. It was more like she was inviting her to vocalize her thoughts, or to join a conversation that had been going on inside both of their heads.

"Alessia, Mage's Guild Associate," she said, taking her hand.

"Saryn, Wood Elf Adventurer," The Bosmer smiled. "So go on, tell me what brings you here, and I'll tell you what brings me here."

Alessia felt somewhat lightheaded from the mead and resolved to stop drinking for the time being, lest she say too much, but explained to this perfect stranger what she had been through so far.

"I'm attempting to join the Mage's Guild, of course. But there are rules. Not just anybody can get in, you see. I have to go to every city in the Imperium, save Kvatch, obviously, and receive a letter of Recommendation," Alessia explained.

"I never knew. So how do you earn these recommends?" Saryn asked.

"You know, I don't know if there's a standard method because ever since I've started I've been asked to perform tasks that range from the absolutely trivial to the unbelievably dangerous," and she hiccupped. "Take this last recommendation!"

"What happened?" Saryn asked, taking a sip from her own tankard.

"Well at first I thought it was going to be another boring job of locating something or somebody and I was absolutely right. This guild-mate, Erthor, had been sent off by the chapter head, Adrienne to a cave! A cave of all places! Why study magic in the safe, tested halls of the guild, no, no, let's send him off to Bleak Flats, out in the middle of nowhere.

"Well that's just the start. You see, turns out she had good reason to want him to study there. The fool was practicing restoration and alteration work, trying to learn spells to mend bones and such. But the fool was practicing on cadavers and had stumbled upon passages from a necromancy tome and brought them all to life again!

"So this fool is too frightened to move and I have to clear them all out! Can you believe it, he can't even clean up his own mess! Lucky I had that fireball spell that Adrienne taught me or I would have been a goner."

"My goodness," Saryn sighed sympathetically. "Sounds like you had quite a time."

"You promised me now," Alessia smiled. "Tell me about your adventures."

"I travel from place to place, undertaking quests to earn gold for my meals, when I don't hunt for myself, of course. Mainly I find the adventure itself appealing. But when I arrived in Anvil… well let's just say I thought that Skingrad was an odd place, but Anvil has some interesting folk as well.

"I arrive at the Anvil docks, and after a group of charming men ask me if I work at the Fo'c's'le I'd about had my fill of the town. So as I am about to leave by way of bay, rather than bothering going back through the city, I run across a poor woman named Varulae, complaining about her lost crystal ball."

"Crystal ball?" Alessia asked.

"Wait, it gets better," Saryn smirked. "She had left it on her ship, the Serpent's Wake. She'd hired a crew to get her to Summerset Isle and back in order to retrieve the crystal ball which was an heirloom. Well on the return journey, her crew was murdered, although she was mum as to who killed them all.

"Well the spirits wouldn't let her go back in and tried to attack her so she asked me to go in and retrieve the crystal ball for her! Of course none of my weapons can harm spirits, but I did have a bit of magic at my disposal too. So I go in, clear the lot out and then hip hip hurrah, return the crystal ball to Varulae."

"Did she reward you well?"

"She gave me some enchanted sword, which was nice, but I managed to get a decent bit of gold from the ship too. Found some skooma too, but I didn't bother with the stuff. Kicked that particular habit years ago."

Alessia gave Saryn an incredulous look and Saryn laughed. "Only joking! Anyways I sold that sword to some bloke in Anvil. I've no need for a magic cutlass. My bow and shortsword are all I need… well and apparently magic, but that's aside the point."

A Dunmer woman sat down next to Saryn.

"You should have brought it with you. I might have given you a better price," she said. She then seemed to realize she might be being rude and changed tack. "Cierra. I'm something of an adventurer myself."

"Well then, let's hear it shall we," Saryn smiled, ordering a mead for Cierra who politely declined, drinking from a personal flask instead.

"Well, I am on a pilgrimage, attempting to find artifacts from the Daedric Princes. So far I have received a gift from Azura, Nocturnal, Peryite and Vaermina. And while I was out here, I've uncovered a fifth.

"Mind you, these princes don't just give away their treasures, no. You must earn them. I've been traveling the Colovian Highlands region as I heard rumors of a shrine to Malacath, and I was right."

"Malacath," Alessia nodded impressively. "I've read of him. Dangerous prince isn't he?"

"He's powerful indeed. I figured he'd have me go off slaying trolls or something equally as suicidal. I couldn't have been more wrong. He actually had me go _save _a group of ogres who were being held as slave-workers for this foolish nobleman.

"The highborn twit refused to let them go and do some honest labor himself, so I simply broke into the slave quarters and freed the lot. He got what was coming to him in the end though. The ogres ended up making _him _their slave."

"And how did Malacath reward you?" Saryn asked.

"He gave me a hammer that belonged to him: Volendrung. Powerful hammer, but I've no use for the thing as a weapon. I keep it safe along with my other treasures," Cierra said.

"You know," Alessia said. "On my way back from Leyawin I came across a shrine to Sheogorath. Perhaps you might find a treasure there."

Cierra lit up. "Thank you! I shall make my way there first thing in the morning."

The three women continued to drink when a voice called from the back of the pub.

"Hey Alessia! Is that you?"

Alessia recognized the voice of the Redguard man who had traveled with her before.

"Davion!" She smiled. "What brings you out here?"

"Work for the guild. Same for you I trust," Davion chuckled.

"Well it's a different guild, but yes, I suppose," Alessia laughed. She was now entirely too tipsy and once again vowed to stop drinking this very instant.

"Is that your friend?" Saryn asked. "He's rather dashing for an older fellow. Go talk to him."

But there was no need, Davion was sitting down at the bar next to them. "I don't suppose any of you have seen a man named Maglir? I'm looking for him."

"Maglir?" Cierra asked. "Ah a tiny Bosmer gent? I've heard him come here to complain on some nights. You might run into him."

"Maybe you two ought to share a room," Saryn giggled. She then too felt as though she'd been drinking too much and pushed her tankard away from her. "What do they put in the mead here?"

**Cheydinhal, Borba's Goods and Stores…**

4 Hearthfire 3E433

"Borba, good to see you again," Will smiled. "Shall we get right down to business, or do you want to get a drink?"

"I'm afraid business will have to wait," Borba sighed. "The town watch is bleeding everybody dry here."

Will folded his arms. "What do you mean?"

"It's this new Captain of the Guard!" Borba hissed. "He'll find any reason to fine the people of this town. I was fined three times this week. They claim it was because my store didn't meet inspection standards, but I know it's because I'm not giving him a discount on my goods."

"Does the Count know about this?" Will asked.

"I don't know if he does or not. To be honest I doubt that he cares about the problems of us common folk," Borba sighed.

Borba was a tough Orc lady, and Will had never seen her so frazzled. So far his trading journey was turning into a nightmare. His last contact refused to do business and now Borba was tapped dry. This couldn't stand.

"Look, I'm gonna go see what I can do about this guy. Somebody has to know something," Will said.

"You think you can accomplish it?"

"All I know is what's bad for my business partners is bad for me," Will said. "I'll see if I can go reason with the fool."

**Bravil…**

4 Hearthfire 3E433

S'krivva was a Khajitt woman who looked rather like R'darra's mother. It was unnerving at first, but her attitude was rather different from that of Armand Cristophe. She was more kind and nurturing where Armand had been more direct and blunt.

She found that thievery was much easier in Bravil as there weren't guards posted at every corner. In fact, there seemed to be surprisingly few guards at all. The Count of Bravil was a drunken wastrel and everybody knew it, and R'darra suspected he kept most of his guards close to him.

So night after night she would sneak into the shops of the local storeowners, pilfer a few valuables and then send them off to the fences before anybody knew what hit them.

She had even been given a unique job of S'krivva's to obtain a missing ring from a friend of hers in Leyawin, Adharji. This had been an interesting mission indeed.

She had arrived in Leyawin and met with Ahdarji. She was a difficult person to talk to, but eventually let slip that an Argonian had stolen the ring from her. The Thieve's Guild frowned upon independent thievery and was therefore surprised to find out that the man who had stolen it was none other than Amusei.

He had been locked up in the dungeon and while she was not happy with having to free the fool, he did tell her that the ring was now in possession of the Countess. The "heirloom" had in fact been the Countess's ring!

But a job was a job as far as R'darra was concerned, and sneaking into palaces was something she had yet to try. Getting into the Great Hall was easy, as anybody was allowed there regardless the hour. But sneaking into the Lord's Manor would be more difficult.

R'darra had stolen a scroll of invisibility from the Mage's Guild in Bravil, which proved useful in sneaking through the hallways. In fact she managed to get just outside the bedroom of the Count before she ran into a guard.

Waiting tensely, praying that he would move, she fumbled with her lockpicks. Finally the guard moved away from the door and out into the hall. The rest was clockwork. Stealing a ring from a jewel box was no challenge even if the Count and Countess were inches from you.

The ring was returned, Amusei free and all was well. So far, at any rate.

"This work is getting almost too easy," R'darra sighed, as she sat with S'krivva in the Lonely Suitor Lodge, a well known establishment with Thieve's Guild background..

"Things are getting more serious back at the Imperial City," S'krivva said. "Maybe if you keep up the diligent work I'll send you back to help. That should prove interesting."

"I'd just like to see that Lex fellow taken care of for good," R'darra said.

S'krivva smiled.

**Imperial City, Elven Gardens District…**

4 Hearthfire 3E433

Despite his initial hesitations, Borin gro-Kromlock was becoming quite the arena combatant. In his first week he had already slain enough of the Yellow Team combatants to rise to the rank of Brawler. Of course the Blademaster was in no hurry to compliment Borin. In fact he kept reminding him that Brawler was barely any better than Pit Dog and that he'd seen plenty of Brawlers get cocky and just die on him.

This was a cheery thought in a way. He figured the Blademaster wouldn't be riding his ass as much if he didn't have a little hope in him.

In between training for the following matches and resting from his occasional injuries, he found time to explore the Imperial City. While it was a bit gloomier since the death of the Emperor, it was nonetheless still an amazing city.

The city was divided into six sections, arranged in a circle around the White Gold Tower, which was more commonly referred to as the Imperial Palace. Two small island-sections broke off the main city, with the dungeon to the northeast and Arcane University to the southeast.

Today Borin was having a drink in the a pub in the Elven Gardens District. It was a quiet little shack called Luther Broad's Boarding House. It was almost completely empty except for a couple of odd patrons. There was a man in the corner who was intently watching the two men sitting at the bar. One of the men was a Redguard who looked like a member of the Blades, except he was wearing civilian clothing, and the other an Imperial who was definitely a Blade as he was decorated in the armor of the group.

Out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Borin, the Redguard got up and went down into the cellar. The man in the corner followed him and then a few seconds after they were both downstairs the Blade followed suit. The bartender looked nervous. Borin stood up, nodded at him and went downstairs.

It was over in seconds. As soon as Borin entered the cellar he saw the man who'd been sitting in the corner attack the Redguard. The Blade lunged at him with his shortsword but was thrown back as the man cast a powerful spell of lightning. The Redguard threw a punch, knocking him back. He landed in Borin's arms.

"Take it easy buddy," Borin warned the mage. But he elbowed him in the stomach, which hurt even through his thick arena armor. The Blade was back up however and stabbed the man through the heart.

"Are you alright Baurus?" The Blade asked.

"Just fine Ignin," Baurus nodded. "Good to see you again."

They both turned to the Borin.

"Uh, Borin gro-Kromlock. Arena. Looked like trouble so I decided to come and help."

"Listen, for the sake of the Empire, you must forget what you have seen here, understood?" Baurus demanded.

"Oh sure. It's an everyday occurrence a man attacks two Blades in the middle of a bar a mere week after the murder of our Emperor," Borin said, folding his arms. "Let me help."

Ignin shrugged, but Baurus didn't look convinced. "Well…"

"Come on Baurus, I for one would be relieved to have the extra help," Ignin said.

"You sure you can handle it?" Baurus asked.

"Look at what I do for a living," Borin laughed.

"Very well. Listen. I've tracked the assassins of the Emperor to a Daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn. They worship the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon. Apparently they've caught on to me," Baurus handed a small book that the assassin was carrying to Ignin.

"Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, Volume 1?" Ignin asked.

"They all carry books like this. What news of the Emperor's heir?"

"We've found him, he's safe at Cloud Ruler Temple," Ignin nodded.

"Thank Talos!" Baurus smiled.

"But the enemy has the Amulet of Kings," Ignin sighed.

"Hmm…" Baurus sighed. "We'll need information. There's an expert on Daedric Cults at the Arcane University. Her name's Tar-Meena. Go track her down and see what she can tell you."

"And what will I be doing?" Borin asked.

"Stay close to him. Never know when he might be attacked," Baurus said.

Ignin was feeling rather tired of being warned of attack. It was as though up to this point his journey had been a vacation.


	7. Chapter 7: The Mysterium Xarxes

Chapter VII: The Mysterium Xarxes

**Frostcrag Spire…  
**24 Frost Fall 4E21

"Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes?" The Bosmer asked. "But I've read that book. Well only a volume of it."

Aywin nodded. "Ever since the murder of Uriel Septim the books began to spread about the Imperium. People were interested in reading what madness brought about the death of a legacy such as his."

"These things always happen," the Khajitt hissed. "Some tragedy happens and people want to know more about the person who did it than the lives of the victims."

"Villains have always been more interesting," Aywin said casually.

The Nord rubbed his head. "Uh, milady?"

"Even among Daedric Princes, the more vicious ones seem to attract more followers. Take Mehrunes Dagon, whose worshippers attacked the Emperor. Or perhaps those who worship Sheogorath," Aywin smiled. "I must confess myself to be… not exactly a worshipper, but perhaps an avid fan of Sheogorath's work."

"That is an interesting proclamation," the Bosmer said, trying to hide his growing discomfort. "Drives people mad, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but Sheogorath is mad," Aywin said. "And as the ruler of Madness he believes that his ideals are those which should be the norm. Well perhaps calling them the norm would be offensive to him, but anybody who chooses to converse with him ought to at least be slightly mad."

"Are you saying you have been to the Shivering Isles?" the Khajitt asked.

Aywin shrugged. "We are nearing the point where I shall come into the story, but first let us get back on topic."

The Bosmer and Nord looked at each other warily and the Khajitt folded his arms.

"The Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, known colloquially as the Mythic Dawn Commentaries, are a set of four volumes. While they act as a sort of worship tome for the members of the Mythic Dawn, it is rumored that possessing all four volumes will reveal secrets about the Mythic Dawn, to a person with the proper… temperament," Aywin continued. "It is this reason that obtaining Volume 3 is very difficult and Volume 4 is almost impossible."

"And yet Baurus and Ignin found a way?" The Bosmer asked.

Aywin smiled. "It wasn't easy."

**Imperial City, Arcane University  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Tar-Meena was an older Argonian woman. With Argonians it was admittedly sometimes hard to tell age to members of other races, but her hair was frayed and weakened, her voice was hoarser than usual and she seem frail, which belied a powerful magical force behind her.

Borin felt spectacularly out of place and a mite underdressed given that everybody wore long blue robes or else the green and tan robes of an apprentice. Ignin handed Tar-Meena the book that he had found from the undercover agent that had attacked them in Luther Broad's Boarding House.

"So, you want to know about the Mythic Dawn?" Tar-Meena asked, getting right to the point without bothering to question Ignin about where he had obtained the text.

"The Mythic Dawn attacked the Emperor. We need to know all there is to know about them," Ignin said.

"As far as shadowy organizations that one can know, I know the most," Tar-Meena nodded. "They follow the teacher Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right. This is 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes', or rather the first volume of a set of four. It is useful for those with a scholarly interest in daedric cults."

"And the Mythic Dawn?" Ignin asked.

Tar-Meena smirked. "Trying to find them? Well I won't poke my nose in any further then." She handed the book back to him. "In any case, finding them won't be easy. I've studied Mankar Camoran's writings a bit myself, at least those that I could find. I've only been able to find the first two volumes, you see. I believe as a whole the books provide clues as to where to find the hidden shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. So you see, deciphering the path and finding the shrine is, in actuality, the first test. Those who succeed prove themselves worthy of joining the Mythic Dawn."

"Where can I find these books?" Ignin asked.

Tar-Meena shrugged. "Well, I can give you my copy of the second volume. Just treat it gently, if you please. I've never even seen Volumes 3 or 4. You might try First Edition down in the Market District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to specialist collectors, so he might have an idea of where to go to find them."

Ignin bowed in appreciation and he and Borin left the Arcane University.

"The Mythic Dawn is responsible for the attacks on the Emperor. Do you think this bookkeeper is really gonna carry stuff that belongs to them?" Borin asked.

"Knowledge has no morality," Ignin said. "It is only how people use knowledge that determines whether something is good or evil."

"That's true enough," Borin nodded. "But not many people appreciate that."

"Do you know where First Edition is?" Ignin asked.

"Sure. I've been here a while now. I'll take you there. You know there's a great shop that just opened up right next to it that I've been meaning to check out," Borin said.

"Oh really?" Ignin asked.

"Yes. It's called the Copious Coinpurse. Apparently the owner has a great selection and low prices. Might be worth checking out."

"Well I can't imagine I'll need a bodyguard for something so dangerous as visiting a bookstore. Why don't you go check it out? If I need you I'm sure I'll be able to find you. The city isn't that large," Ignin said.

"Tryin' to get rid of me, huh?" Borin chuckled.

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that," Ignin said, apologetically.

"I'm teasing you, kid. I'll tell you what. Let's meet at Luther Broad's Boarding House this evening to discuss what we've found," Borin said.

"Sounds fair enough," Ignin nodded.

In the Market District, Borin pointed out a small cozy looking shop on the corner, near the gate to the Imperial Palace. Right across the street was The Copious Coinpurse, and that is where Borin entered.

"Alright," Ignin said to himself. "Let's see what this man has for us."

Phintias was a proud and haughty looking Redguard. Ignin could tell right away that this was a man who was more brains than brawn, if it hadn't been given away by him owning a book store. For one, he wore fine clothing with not the slimmest trace of armor. Second, though the Redguards were a fairly dark-skinned race, he was very fair, as though he rarely saw the sun. And third, he just gave off the air of somebody who, while not being unpleasant, felt that he was vaguely superior to those around him.

"Welcome to the First Edition!" Phintias cried jovially. "Take a look around. If I don't have it, I can probably get it."

"I'm inquiring into the Mysterium Xarxes, Volume 3 and 4. Do you perhaps have these books?" Ignin asked.

"You must be referring to Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, by Mankar Camoran. A common mistake. The first two volumes are rare enough, but the third and fourth volume are impossible to find," Phintias explained.

"You've no idea where I can acquire the other two volumes?" Ignin asked.

"Well," Phintias sighed. "I do happen to have a copy of Volume Three on hand. But I'm afraid it's a special order. Already paid for by another customer, you see."

"Who has placed the order?" Ignin demanded.

Phintias looked aghast at Ignin's audacity. "Not that it's any of your business, sir, but it was a man by the name of Gwinas."

"And he is paying?"

"50 gold septims for the cost of the book, and that is a bargain price considering he is a long-time customer," Phintias explained.

"I can offer you 100 gold septims," Ignin said. "And you'd be doing a service to the Blades."

Phintias looked Ignin over. "I really can't do it. My word is my bond and Gwinas is a good customer. I'm sorry. I have copies of Volumes One and Two if you like. I'll sell them to you for 15 gold septims a piece, bargain to help cope with your disappointment."

"I already own Volumes One and Two," Ignin replied. "Thank you for trying to help."

Ignin turned and walked out of the First Edition.

**Imperial City, The Copious Coinpurse  
**5 Hearthfire, 3E433

The owner of the Copious Coinpurse was a small Bosmer fellow with long blond hair. He introduced himself as Thoronir, and greeted Borin gro-Kromlock with the pitch: "What kind of deal can I make for you today?"

Borin looked over his wares. It was true, he did offer what appeared to be the finest goods and lowest prices in all of Cyrodiil.

He took this time to purchase some new clothing, as being in the Arcane University had called to his attention that his Arena armor and bouncer clothing might not be the only clothes he would need in this city. A quick purchase of light brown linen pants and a olive vest, along with a pair of matching moccasins and he felt like a new man.

"They do suit you sir. Perhaps you need some food or books? Maybe some weaponry, I sell the lot!" Thoronir smiled.

Borin had to admit, he was quite the salesman. However he wasn't hungry, and the Arena gave him all the weaponry that he needed so he politely declined further purchases.

"Ah it's just as well. Don't want to spend too much in one day, even with my low prices!" Thoronir replied tactfully. "Feel free to visit anytime and be sure to tell your friends!"

Borin smirked. "You are very good you know that. I've seen a lot of salesmen back in Leyawin and they can sell dirt to a mudcrab, but you are a cut above even them."

Thoronir seemed genuinely pleased. "Thank you. It's my pleasure. From Leyawin, you say? I've a cousin that lives down that way, or he did until he started worshipping Sheogorath. Spends most of his days running around in only a loin cloth in the Jerall Mountains, if you can believe it!"

Borin burst out laughing. This man truly had an infectious personality.

"So tell me something. Your wares. They're the finest in all of Cyrodiil," Borin said.

"Oh really?" Thoronir asked. And Borin noticed that for a fraction of a second Thoronir seemed distinctly uneasy about proceeding.

"How do you do it?" Borin asked. "I have an old Nord friend who runs a shop in Anvil and he breaks his back every year working with other merchants and suppliers. Used to come visit me towards the end of his journey and tell me how rough it was."

Thoronir smiled and replied calmly. "Well, let's just say that you and I are very alike. We know the right people, we get the best deals."

This was an odd way to answer the question, but Borin left it at that and left the Copious Coinpurse. He wandered down the Market when he noticed a young woman cleaning her door and fussing about something. That's when he heard the name Thoronir.

"I'm sorry, milady, but did you say something about Thoronir?" Borin asked.

The woman seemed slightly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No no, I was just curious. I was just at his shop. Are you an upset customer?"

The woman frowned. "I'm a merchant. It's my name on the sign," and she pointed above her. Borin read the sign: Jensine's "Good As New" Merchandise.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Jensine," Borin said. "I'm Borin gro-Kromlock."

"I've seen you. Won 25 septims on your fight the other day. You sure look different in regular clothes," Jensine said.

"Well I can't always wear armor," Borin chuckled. "So what's the deal with Thoronir?"

"I'm the head of a group called the Society of Concerned Merchants. We set up this group a while back to keep a nice fair economic balance in town. Not _every _store is a member, but we're slowly trying to convince them to join. Everything was fine until Thoronir opened his shop nearby. He sells all sorts of stuff and undercuts prices like you wouldn't believe. He doesn't always sell what we sell, but it is still a problem. People who buy tend to want to spend their money there, leaving none for us. It's getting so bad, a few of us may even have to close up shop. He outright refuses to join the Society or even discuss the matter. We're convinced he's up to no good."

"Do you have any proof of that?" Borin asked, now starting to feel guilty about his purchases.

"Well… no. We don't. If we did, we'd notify the Guard straight away, of course," Jensine replied.

"Oh come on, Lady. Business isn't fair. Maybe he's just good at what he does," Borin replied skeptically.

"How can he afford to cut prices for all of the things he has to sell. I know what suppliers are charging for half of the items he sells. I'm telling you there's something dirty about him," Jensine insisted.

"So what do you want me to do, case the joint and find out where his stuff is coming from?" Borin asked.

Jensine folded her arms. "As a matter of fact yes, that would be ideal. And if you can bring him to justice we could pay you a bounty of gold."

Borin sighed. "I'll… consider it."

**Imperial City Sewers  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Azeg-Rael crept through the sewers of the Imperial City, his Blade of Woe in hand. Vicente had given him his new contract; to murder a man who was set to be released from prison named Valen Dreth. His orders were simple, murder him without alerting or harming any of the guards- at least to get his bonus.

For some reason, Azeg-Rael felt quite at ease in the sewers. It was very easy to sneak around without being seen, even by those who called this place their home. After combing through a few tunnels, he finally found the door he was looking for. It led to one of the sewers many filter chambers, and from there up to an old escape route used by Emperor's of the past.

Including the recently deceased Uriel Septim.

The door was, predictably, locked. Azeg-Rael had brought with him three lockpicks, but to his dismay the lock proved more difficult than any he had attempted to crack before. The first pick broke almost instantly.

"Unfortunate," Azeg-Rael shrugged. He put the second pick in and slowly went about his work. The door pried open but he could tell that his second pick was severely weakened by the work. He would have to proceed carefully.

He walked over the large cylindrical chamber that was used to filter impurities and animals out of the towns water supply. He saw a Slaughterfish trapped on the grate, beating its fin furiously trying to get back into water.

"Suffocation isn't pretty is it friend," Azeg-Rael said, stabbing it with his knife. "This way is better. Quick and painless."

And with a loud shriek, the fish stopped squirming.

"Soon," Azeg-Rael said, cleaning the blade, "you will help me fulfill another murder in the name of Sithis."

The door leading up into the Sanctum was next. He found that it, too was locked. As he inserted the second lock pick it broke. He only had one pick left. He worked carefully on the lock, dreading each tumbler, knowing that the slightest mistake now would break the pick and he would have to turn around for more. But fortune was on his side, and the last tumbler slid into place and the door opened.

The Sanctum was filled with guards. How in Sithis' name was he supposed to sneak his way through this lot.

_If I _were _a Shadowscale, this would be simple. But as I cannot turn myself invisible…_

Azeg-Rael ran into plain sight of the guards and ducked down a small side passage. "Hello gentlemen! Catch me if you can!"

The Guards all took chase after him, running down the side passage and on into the interconnecting corridors beyond. What they did not see was that Azeg-Rael had hid in a small dark corner, concealed by shadow and his dark clothing, as they ran past. He turned back onto the main path and took care to lock the gate to that passageway behind him.

"And now on with the show," Azeg-Rael said.

Sitting near the exit of the Sanctum, which happened to be in an adjacent cell, was a guard who was conversing with Valen.

"So you leave here tomorrow, eh Valen? I'm sure gonna miss you. All the late night beatings, the pelting during meals, oh it's been fun. But you'll be back in here soon enough I'm sure. Scum like you don't get very far," the guard said.

"Once I'm out of here I intend to leave this wretched county. You'll never see me again, you can be sure of that," Valen cursed.

"Well then. Here's one for the road."

Azeg-Rael heard a loud punch which by the sound of it cracked a rib or two of Valen's. The guard left, leaving only Azeg-Rael and Valen. He walked up to Valen's cell. "Good evening Valen Dreth."

"Who are you?!" Valen demanded.

"The Night Mother sends her regards," Azeg-Rael said simply. With that he jammed his lockpick into the cell and it broke.

Valen smirked. "Not a very impressive assassin are you? Oh, guard!"

Azeg-Rael looked over and saw a barrel full of lantern oil. He walked over to it.

"Where are you going?" Valen asked, walking towards the edge of his cell to see Azeg-Rael at work.

Azeg-Rael dragged the barrel over towards the cell. "My blade is very disappointed that it won't be able to slit your throat. And when it is disappointed, I am disappointed."

"What are you doing?" Valen asked, looking at the barrel.

"But," Azeg-Rael said, ignoring Valen, "we shall have to find some way to control our grief."

Azeg-Rael kicked the barrel over, flooding Valen's cell with oil that reached up to Valen's ankles.

"No! Don't do it! Guards! Guards come quick, please!" Valen screamed.

Azeg-Rael smiled darkly. "What are the lines from that song about Morrowind? Sing along with me, Valen. You're a Dunmer aren't you?"

"Guards!" Valen shrieked, trying to claw his way to an slight gap in his cell, but his blistered fingers unable to grasp the harsh rock. "Guards come quick!"

_In these parts far more pernicious,  
From the Ashlanders to the wettest fishes,_ sang Azeg-Rael.

"Guards!" Valen cried. "Somebody please help me!"

_You'll find pleasure and pain quite delicious  
In Morrowind._

"Help me!"

Azeg-Rael dropped the torch onto the oil and the entire cell lit up, ablaze with the burning oil. Valen shrieked so loud, but the thick rock drowned out all sounds to the outside world. After almost three minutes of unbearable suffering, Valen Dreth collapsed to the ground, dead. Azeg-Rael smirked and turned to leave the way he'd come.

**Shrine of Sheogorath  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Cierra had reached the Shrine of Sheogorath around the mid-afternoon. She had been fortunate enough to get a ride from a caravan heading towards Leyawin and hopped off near the Shrine. The caravan owner had warned her that the people who approached Sheogorath's Shrine usually did not fair well.

They were not like her, however.

She saw Sheogorath's likeness. He was a tall man with a thick beard and a regal stature about him. Most Daedric princes were monstrous in appearance, but Sheogorath looked almost human.

The statue called out to her:

_Another mortal dares to summon me, and already I am bored. But enough about me. Let's talk about you. I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle. Or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud. Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let's find out._

_There's a little settlement called Border Watch. It's a nice, peaceful place... and dull, dull, dull. You're going to make their lives interesting. They're a superstitious bunch. Everything is an omen or a portent. Let's make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K'Sharra prophecy. You are to find a way to make the first two parts of the prophecy come true. I'll take care of the rest, because it's the most fun. Now, run along._

With her orders from Sheogorath, she had made her way to the small settlement of Border Watch. It was a Khajitt village on the border between Elswyr and Cyrodiil, undoubtedly the reason for the name. There were three houses each on either side of a large set of stairs. 6 steps, a landing, leading to the second tier of houses and then another set of 6 steps. This was noteworthy because the last set of stairs really should have gone one step more, but they had chosen not to, forcing people at the top of the stairs to hop a bit to get to the highest landing.

_They're a superstitious lot, _Cierra thought.

"You are a new face," said a kindly looking Khajitt commoner. "We don't often have visitors, but all are welcome in Border Watch. Perhaps you have come to see our prize collection of cheeses?"

Cierra rubbed the back of her head. "Oh, just passing through."

The man seemed slightly upset. "Ah well. But do please enjoy your stay while you are here. Perhaps you should see our Shaman, Ri'Bassa. He can arrange a place for you to spend the night. It is getting late."

He pointed out a man wearing a dark cloak leaning on a stool near a large pot at the top of the stairs.

_Superstitious and friendly, an odd combination, _Cierra thought as she walked up the flight of stairs, hopping at the last one to reach the top level.

"Welcome newcomer," said Ri'Bassa. "What brings you to Border Watch? Come to stay at the Border Watch Inn, perhaps to see our collection of cheese? Or maybe to see our herd of sheep?"

"Actually, I'm a traveling scholar," Cierra invented wildly. "I'm just passing through Border Watch, but since I'm here I was wondering if you could fill me in about your town?"

"Certainly," Ri'Bassa smiled. "What would you like to know?"

"I specialize in mythology and religions, as well as Daedric worship. I heard tell of something called the K'Sharra Prophecy. Do you know anything about that?" Cierra asked.

Ri'Bassa began to fiddle with his hands nervously. "Well… that is an unusual request. Not many people outside of Border Watch know about the K'Sharra Prophecy."

"What does it entail?" Cierra pressed.

"I… I don't really think I should tell. It's too awful. Get's people nervous just mentioning it," Ri'Bassa replied.

Cierra shrugged. "I understand. Well I suppose I'll be getting on then. The sun isn't down just yet. I can still make it to Leyawin if I hurry."

"Wait!" Ri'Bassa called back, his voice cracking as though he only half wanted her to stay. Cierra turned and saw the cogs at work in his brain by the expression on his face. Even for a Khajitt, he was very easy to read right now.

"I… could tell you a bit about it. Just so you have a better understanding."

"Well that would be interesting," Cierra replied, taking a seat by the large cooking pot. "So what's this about?"

Ri'Bassa continued to bend and flex his hands nervously as he spoke. "An old Shaman of Border Watch, my great grandfather, in fact, once predicted the end of the world. He said that there would be three signs to indicate that the end was near."

"And what are those three signs?" Cierra asked.

Ri'Bassa rubbed his arms. "Well… you see we don't often speak of it. It's too horrible to imagine you see. I know many people have predicted the end of the world before but for the people of Border Watch this is something very close to home for us."

Cierra watched him, but said nothing. When Ri'Bassa could stall no longer he sighed.

"Well… the first sign is the plague of Vermin. A horde of rats will infest the town," Ri'Bassa stopped, as though hoping he could leave it at that, but Cierra's continued staring pressed him on. "The second sign is the plague of Pestilence. Our herd will die from some mysterious illness."

"And the third?" Cierra asked.

"The plague of Fear… but I cannot tell you. Really that is the most horrible and it makes me uncomfortable to even think of it," Ri'Bassa said. "Come now, the sun has practically set. Let me get you a room at our Inn."

Cierra nodded. After all, Sheogorath had merely said she needed to accomplish the first two tasks. The third, he would commence himself.

**West Weald, Fallen Rock Cave…  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

All things considered Davion had had worse experiences in the Fighters Guild. Fighting goblins, mountain lions and bandits. So far with this task, the worst he'd had to deal with was Maglir.

Maglir was a drunken, cowardly little Bosmer. He sat at a bench drinking his ale and cursing anything that moved. When Davion had walked up to him, the Bosmer had the nerve to take one look at him and scoff, "So you're my replacement are you?"

"You must be Maglir," Davion replied.

"That I am. And who are you?" Maglir asked, testily.

"I'm the guy they sent to find out why you defaulted on your contract," Davion replied sharply. Patience with rudeness was never his strong suit.

"I was sent to go to Fallen Rock Cave and retrieve Brenus Astis' journal. Well no sir, no thank you, it's not for me. The reward is nowhere near worth the risk. I don't know about you, but I have a family to take care of," Maglir replied.

"So, you won't do it?" Davion asked.

"Find somebody else. You can do it if you like. I'm sure a pompous Redguard like yourself would love a little more glory on the battlefield," Maglir hissed. "We Bosmer are a more practical and sensible race."

Davion shoved Maglir against the bar. The bartender turned, offended, but didn't dare utter a word against two armed members of the Fighters Guild.

"A Bosmer helped me fight Daedra in the battle of Kvatch. Admit it, Maglir. You're just a coward!" Davion shouted.

Maglir looked insulted more than frightened, but there was still some fear there. "Unhand me at once you barbarian!"

Davion let go of Maglir and unsheathed his Claymore. "I'm going to go to Fallen Rock Cave, get this journal and return it to the person who signed the contract. Then I'm dragging you back to Chorrol with me."

Though that had been the plan, Davion was finding the trek through Fallen Rock Cave to be more difficult than he had imagined. The main chamber was blocked off by a massive cave-in, which looked recent, as some of the stones were still shifting and settling. Perhaps this was what had scared off Maglir.

Davion looked around and noticed a small side-chamber. Pointing his Claymore in front of him as he made his way through, he felt through the chamber. His torch was almost useless in this low light, and Claymores were two handed weapons, meaning if he was caught in an attack he'd be defenseless for a moment while he adjusted his grip.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if _that _situation arose.

The chamber ended on the other side of the fallen rocks. Torches lined the walls of this new chamber, so Davion set his torch down beside the side path. He would use that to find his way back out, as this chamber broke off into several side passages.

"By Talos," Davion cursed. "I hope I don't have to go down all of these chambers."

He did, however, have to start somewhere. The first chamber led him to a small room with another cave-in and a hole leading out into a field. The second chamber was a small camp that was until recently occupied. The third was a dead end.

By the fourth chamber he was starting to lose patience. This continually tracking and backtracking was driving him made. He hated these old cavern systems for this reason. While forts and ruins had, at least, some rhyme or reason, mother nature was a far more cruel labyrinth creator.

However, on the fourth attempt he finally found what he was looking for, laying in the arms of a skeleton. A small book which was undoubtedly the journal the contract called for.

He picked up the book and started to make his way out of the cave.

"Impertinent Wood Elf," came a voice. "Trying to steal from the dead again are we?"

Davion turned around and lifted his Claymore just in time to block a heavy-handed swing from a battleaxe. The Skeleton had started to move!

"It is a Redguard this time. Why do you mortals not let the dead rest in peace?" The ghost of Brenus Astis asked.

"You've no more use for this journal. I'm taking it back to Skingrad. I'm not scared of any spook or Drougr," Davion called. "We can fight for this journal if you want!"

The skeleton slashed at Davion again, but he leapt back, barely dodging the swing. He thrust into the ribcage of the skeleton, but all it managed to do was get his sword stuck in the beast. The skeleton swung again, landing a crushing blow against his shoulder. Davion dropped the grip of his sword and fell back against the cave wall. He ducked as the skeleton swung again, crashing the wall beside him and causing shards of rock to fall on his head.

Davion leapt to his feet and forced his Claymore out of the chest of the skeleton. After rolling out of the way of the skeleton he struck again, and this time his aim was true, shattering several of the skeletons ribs and cleaving its spine. The useless puppet fell over and the battle axe clamored to the ground.

"I can see why you got scared Maglir," Davion said. "But you never leave a job unfinished."

He once again picked up the journal and made his way back towards Skingrad.

**Anvil, Anvil Mages Guild  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Alessia's journey to Anvil had been sped up by a caravan of refugees from K'vatch who were heading in the same direction. They welcomed her aboard and she rode the caravan into town with them, reaching the Anvil Mages Guild by the late afternoon.

The chapter head of this Guild, Carahil, however seemed just as agitated and harsh as the previous one. In fact she didn't particularly seem to care for Alessia at all.

"You want a recommendation?" She asked, scowling at Alessia's bedraggled appearance. "You look like a scullery maid, not a Sorceress."

"Regardless, I only require your Recommendation and that of Chorrol," Alessia retorted. She was amazed by her own daring. At the start of her journey she would certainly not have spoken back to a superior.

Carahil, however, seemed reasonably more confident in Alessia by this outburst. "All right. I suppose there is something you can assist us with. We will require, however, you to be willing to put your life on the line. This is no simple task, but a true test of your skill."

Alessia nodded. "I understand."

"Head to the Brina Cross Inn. There have been several attacks on the road lately. Merchants being killed and robbed by some rogue mage. We are plotting to apprehend the highwayman," Carahil said. "Don't worry, you won't be going alone. You will be assisted by some undercover Battlemages from the Arcane University."

"Very well. I passed the inn on my way here. I know where it is," Alessia replied.

"Good," Carahil nodded. "Get there before nightfall. You'll be filled in when you get there."

**Skingrad, Alleyway  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Saryn was wandering through the town of Skingrad. She'd decided she would stay in this part of the Imperium for the time being as Skingrad truly did seem like an interesting place. Lots of interesting people usually meant lots of work.

"You there!" Came a voice from around a corner.

Saryn stopped and looked around. She saw a tiny Bosmer man poking his head around the corner of the nearest building. She looked behind her and without uttering a word pointed at herself, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes, you! Come here! Quickly!" the Bosmer cried.

Saryn grabbed her dagger and cautiously approached Glarthir. "What is it?"

"You. You've got to help me! You're not from around here, so I know I can trust you," Glarthir explained.

"What is this you're babbling?" Saryn asked.

"There's a plot. A terrible plot in this town. The people are in it. The guards are in it! You must help me. But now is not the time to talk. Meet me behind the chapel precisely at midnight and I will tell you more!" The man said.

"The chapel at midnight?" Saryn asked.

"Come alone!" He hissed, and then ran away.

Saryn strolled out of the alley the way she had come. She didn't exactly like the sounds of this man, but he said he needed her help and he might have some gold. Couldn't be the worst thing in the world to just talk to him.

As she wandered towards the inn she was stopped by a soldier and two of his guards.

"You there, Bosmer."

Saryn stopped. "Yes?"

"You're new in town aren't you?" The guard said.

"Yes, I'm a traveler. Name's Saryn," she said. "Bow for hire."

"I figured. You must be new, or else you wouldn't be talking to Glarthir."

"Glarthir?" Saryn asked.

"Glarthir is insane," the soldier said simply. "That other Wood Elf you were talking to. He's certifiable. I would ignore him completely if I were you, and if he does ask you to do something that you shouldn't I want you to contact the Guard straight away."

"Does he pose a threat to the town?" Saryn asked.

The soldier sighed. "Well usually it's just harmless paranoia. But lately he's been acting weirder, jumpier. More secretive. It's almost like he's plotting something. Just please keep an eye out for him."

The soldiers walked off. Saryn wasn't sure what to do with this information. She was rapidly wishing she had head back on the road with Alessia or Cierra when she had the chance.

**Cheydinhal, Count's Castle…  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Will had tried to reason with Ulrich Leland, the new Captain of the Guard. He had been fined 50 septims just for "disturbing an officer of the peace!" When Will tried to bring this matter to the Count, the Count dismissed the claims saying that he wasn't bothered by such things and would not accept anything less than solid proof of corruption.

Shortly after that encounter, he'd run into Llevana. Llevana was rather fair for a Dunmer woman, but had dark eyes and that strangely common look of distrust.

"I understand you're looking into the matter of Ulrich Leland?" She asked him.

"Uh," Will rubbed his head. "Yes. Do you know something?"

"His lieutenant Garrus would be your best bet. He knows that Ulrich is up to no good. I think he is out with him on patrol now… oh look!"

Llevana pointed over to the river where Garrus, Ulrich and a drunken dark elf were having a conversation.

"That's my friend Othran. He's always getting too drunk and getting into trouble with the guards," Llevana cried. "He doesn't know what's good for him."

Suddenly without warning, Ulrich let out a bellow and plunged his blade straight through Othran's heart.

"No!" Llevana shouted, rushing out towards them. Will ran behind her.

"Stand back citizens!" Ulrich ordered, waving his sword threateningly towards them.

"You killed that man in cold blood!" Will said. "We saw it!"

"Oh, that will be another 75 septims for falsely accusing a guard, and I think another 150 for interfering with the course of justice," Ulrich said.

"They'll pay no such fine!" Garrus said firmly. "You hold your tongue or I'll stand by them in their defense."

Ulrich scoffed. "The Count trusts me more than you, Garrus. I'd like to see you try. But very well, I think I've proven my point here anyways. Arguing with the Guard is hazardous to your health. Pity. The poor man shouldn't have resisted arrest."

Ulrich let out a derisive cackle and Llevana seemed ready to rush at him, her eyes burning with tears, but Will held her back. Ulrich smirked and then turned around heading back towards the castle.

"The only way we'll get him removed from office is with proof," Garrus said. "Even this the Count would agree with Ulrich and say it must have been self defense."

"So what can we do?" Will asked.

"There might be some incriminating evidence in his private quarters. Something that will prove corruption," Garrus said. "You think you're up for the task?"

"Why me?" Will asked.

"Ulrich knows me and Llevana too well. He'll be watching for us. You blend in fairly well, especially as a merchant," Garrus replied.

Will sighed. "All right. Just tell me what to do."

**Imperial City Talos Plaza District, Residence of Dynari Amnis…  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

"R'darra, good to see you again!" Methredel said as R'darra arrived on the doorstep. "Close the door."

R'darra shut the door behind her and sat down at the table next to Methredel. She had been riding all day ever since the word had arrived to her in Bravil. The Waterfront was once again under attack, Armand Cristophe was under house arrest and this time, Hieronymus Lex was so determined that he had actually taken guards from every other area of the city to invade the Waterfront.

"Do we have a plan of attack?" R'darra asked.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Methredel replied. "Our best effort to counter this onslaught is a series of well-timed robberies around the Imperial City. We'll make them pay for their short-sightedness."

"The Thieve's Guild using burglary as a weapon. We certainly won't win points for originality," R'darra smirked.

Methredel returned the smirk. "Would it help if I told you that we were entrusting you with the most difficult job?"

"Oh?"

Methredel unraveled a parchment on which was displayed a somewhat crude drawing of a staff.

"Hroromir's Ice Staff, favorite of the Arch-Mage himself," Methredel said handing R'darra the scroll.

"You want me to steal this?" R'darra asked.

"Of course," Methredel replied.

"I see what you mean. This could be fun," R'darra replied. "There will be other robberies aside from mine you said?"

"Yes. A coordinated attack is the best course of action. The sun will be setting any moment now. I need your commitment to this," Methredel said.

R'darra nodded. "That Staff is as good as yours."

"Great!" Methredel said, clapping her hands. "Okay thieves. We're on. Everybody get to your positions! "

R'darra left first and headed down the alley towards the Arcane University. As she passed through the Market District she saw a large Imperial in Blade's armor arguing with an Altmer.

"Look Gwinas!" Ignin shouted. "That book you have is a mark of the Mythic Dawn."

"I am aware of that. Daedric worship may be unpopular, but it is not illegal," Gwinas hissed angrily. "You have no claim to this book."

"You damn fool!" Ignin shouted. "They killed the Emperor!"

Gwinas seemed truly shocked now. "The… Emperor? By Azura, I had no idea."

"So you'll give me that book?" Ignin demanded.

"Of course. I don't want anybody to think I had anything to do with that. If you need the last volume, just head to the meeting place in that note. The sponsor who was going to give me that copy will be waiting there with the last volume," Gwinas said. "I'm terribly sorry!"

R'darra made a mental note to try and find that Imperial later and ask him about that book. If it meant so much to him, it was probably worth a lot of money. Heading through the Green Emperor Way she also heard the sounds of a scuffle nearby. She looked over and saw a massive Orc fighting with three men.

"So nice to see where Thoronir gets his stuff from!" Borin shouted. "Robbing graves. Class act you thugs!"

"But he didn't know where we got it from. We'll finish you off and then deal with Thoronir!" The thug leader shouted.

"You damn punks just don't get it. I literally eat you weaklings for breakfast!" Borin called, ramming all three of them with one powerful whirl of his warhammer.

R'darra heard each cracked head and could tell that they had to be dead. No way they were standing up after a hit like that. She rushed on. She was getting distracted too easily.

The Arcane University was all but barren. She had no problem at all sneaking into the main tower. By this time, the sun had set and the torches in the tower were flickering gently. She knew the Arch-Mage resided at the top of the tower, but her first problem came at the site of the main foyer. There were no stairs.

She looked around and saw a small portal on the ground next to her. The runes embedded on it would likely prevent unauthorized entry. So what was she supposed to do now? Try and take a mage hostage?

No, R'darra thought to herself. That would be disastrous. However, an idea had come to her, and one that would easily be manageable. She went back outside and looked at the tower. There were no external torches, but she could barely make out a battlement near the top, near a balcony where the Arch-Mage could look out upon the University.

She uncoiled her rope and tied the end to her dagger. She then spun the rope and hurled it up over the edge of the balcony. The dagger caught against the stone and it seemed to lock into place. She slowly climbed up the side of the tower. This was far harder work than she had initially thought. The rope was coarse against her hands and the side of the tower was very old. Bits of rock crumbled underfoot as she slowly ascended.

Even climbing like this took its toll naturally. By the time she was halfway up, she already felt like she could bear it no longer. She climbed higher and higher, every few steps losing a bit of ground to a broken brick or her sliding foot on a patch of moss. She could not tell what would happen first. Would she pass out and tumble to her death? Would the rope hold? Would she make it to the top only to be ambushed?

Higher and higher she went, dizzied by the height and climb, her fur weeping with sweat. With an enormous effort she reached her hand up to the balcony ledge and rolled over onto it. She pulled the rope up quickly and lay back for a moment to catch her breath. How in the world had she survived that?

She quickly grabbed the Staff which was laying just at the end of the Arch-Mage's bed. She tied the rope to the balcony properly, resheathed her dagger and slid down the rope before retreating back to town.

She couldn't wait to see what would happen in the morning.

**Niben Bay, Border Watch…  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

So far the first two tasks had gone swimmingly for Cierra. The inn did, in fact, have a wide collection of cheese. There was one especially pungent brand which Cierra had no trouble pilfering and placing in the cooking pot outside the inn. Within hours that had brought about the rats.

That alone did not seem to truly unnerve anybody. Rats were, afterall, common in the area. And the smell of cheese could hardly be a deterrent. One of the locals began setting out rat poison in large clumps around town to get rid of them. That was Cierra's next big break.

Feeling slightly guilty, she took the rat poison and slid it into the food troughs of the sheep. Within another few hours, all the sheep fell over, dead.

Absolute panic reigned. The people began shrieking and wailing. Calls of calamity from here and there echoed through the streets. And Sheogorath must have heard.

_Good work, friend. Now watch a master at work._

The clouds over them darkened and then turned red. And suddenly several large objects began to fall from the sky. It took almost a full minute before they hit the ground, and only a few seconds before they landed did Cierra realize what they were. They were all perfectly ordinary wolf dogs… on fire.

"The K'Sharra Prophecy!" Ri'Bassa cried. "No!"

"Burning dogs?" Cierra asked. "Really?"

_Yes, amusing little prophecy that one. They'll whine for a while but I think eventually they'll realize the world hasn't ended. Oh, and take this for your collection._

A large wooden staff appeared in front of Cierra.

_It's called the Wabbajack. And I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun with it soon enough._

**Imperial City, The Sewers…  
**5 Hearthfire 3E433

Baurus, Borin and Ignin were waiting just outside the meeting spot. The note inside the book had mentioned this particular lonely junction in the Imperial City Sewers.

"Okay. I'll go meet the Sponsor," Ignin said. "You two stay hidden and back me up if there is any trouble, understood?"

Baurus and Borin nodded. Baurus hid on the upper level of the room and Borin hid at the back. Ignin sat down at a small table which had been set up expectantly. After a few moments a man in a dark red hood and robe came in.

"You have an interest in our arts. You have done well to see the signs so far, but for this final volume your mind must be truly prepared," The Sponsor began. He then looked at Ignin's face.

"What is this?" He demanded. "Why do you need a copy of this book?!"

"What are you talking about?" Ignin asked.

"Oh I see. You've chosen to side with _them_! It will make for you poorest decision to date!" And with a great bellow he threw the table at Ignin who leapt out of the way.

Two other Mythic Dawn agents dropped down from the walkway above them, but Baurus was right behind them, tackling one of the two. Borin rushed up from the back, taking the other one, leaving Ignin to deal with the Sponsor. The Sponsor blasted the rocks just behind Ignin's head with a bolt of lightning. Ignin retaliated by lunging in with his Iron Sword. Baurus finished off his target with a simple stab in the back from his short sword and Borin rung the neck of the third.

Ignin rifled through the pockets of the sponsor until he found the fourth volume of the book.

"You got it?" Baurus asked.

"It's right here," Ignin nodded.

"Excellent. Now let's find out what exactly these Mythic Dawn are up to," Baurus grinned.


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets And Lies

**Chapter 8: Secrets and Lies**

**Frostcrag Spire...  
**24 Frost Fall, 4E21

"And now we come to it," Aywin said, standing up and setting the book down on her chair. 'Though I am not quite pleased with this books interpretation of myself, and as I know my own role in the story better, I shall be the one to tell it."

"At last!" The Nord smiled. "I've been looking forward to this."

"You may not like what I have to say," Aywin said. "But you have paid attention to my story thus far, and I feel you can be trusted with the information."

"What information is that milady?" The Bosmer asked.

Aywin bowed her head slightly so that her hair covered her face. "I was born in Cyrodiil. In a small village that used to lay a few miles west of Bruma. I was born in the 2nd Era, Year 57."

"M-milady?" The Bosmer asked.

"It was in 2E78 that I became what I am," Aywin rose her head, and while her features were just as pale and delicate, her eyes had a soft red tint to them.

"Vampire!" The Khajitt shouted, raising his weapon.

With a casual wave, Aywin knocked the weapon out of his hand. "I am not your enemy!" She said. "Nor do I intend to feed upon you."

The men did not seem comforted by this. Aywin sighed. "I am able to sustain myself, with effort, through magical means that allow me to avoid having to feed. However, I am locked in this tower due to my condition. The sunlight would kill me if mortal men did not reach me first."

"Then we must be the first company you've had in a while," The Nord said.

"Indeed," Aywin nodded. She folded her arms. "I did not mean to deceive you, but if I had told you right away... And after all, I did let you in out of this blizzard. I swear I have no intention of harming you,"

The Khajitt turned away and looked slightly ashamed of himself. "Forgive me."

Aywin nodded. "That is fine. I understand. I need you to understand my condition because it plays a great deal in how I impact the story."

"Please, continue," the Bosmer said, taking his seat. The other two followed suit.

"Towards the end of the third era, I had been trying to find my way into the realm of a certain Daedric Prince," Aywin said.

"Sheogorath," The Khajitt nodded.

"Correct. It was rumored that once every so often, a door would appear in the Niben Bay that lead to it. Of course, at this time, all the gates that were open were doorways to Mehrunes Dagon's world. I feared I would never find my way if the situation continued as it had."

"Why were you searching for the Shivering Isles?" The Nord asked.

"Simply because it was something else to find. No other Daedric Prince, except Mehrune's Dagon, had so willingly offered the ability to visit their realm of Oblivion. You must understand that I'd been alive for centuries. When you are alive that long, you grow weary of what there is to see. I'd seen all of Tamriel. Many times. That was back when I would feed (usually upon thieves and bandits when I could). The Shivering Isles was simply another place for me to go," Aywin said.

"And now?" The Bosmer asked.

Aywin looked around her tower. "I have this tower and the grounds. My only escape is into these tales that I read."

"How can you bear it?" The Khajitt asked.

"By knowing that one day, there may be somebody who needs me to continue existing. Our existence is only a curse if we make it one. If I had died many of the times that I wished I had, then I would be unable to help you, for instance. I do not intend to allow myself to die. If the time comes naturally, then I welcome it. Otherwise, I will continue to exist, "Aywin said.

There was a brief silence at these words. The men looked around, and Aywin opened her book again.

"According to this tome, I appeared out of nowhere and vanished into nowhere. Very poetic. Very false. I came in from Skyrim and found my way to Cloud Ruler Temple. But before we get to that, we have a few other things to clear up."

**Skingrad, Behind the Chapel...**

6 Hearthfire 3E433

Saryn had decided the only decent thing to do about Glarthir would be to honor her promise. Then, if he seemed like a threat, she would alert the town guard at once. She went out back behind the Chapel and waited. Shortly after the bell rung midnight she saw Glarthir creeping by the wall towards her, constantly looking over his shoulder.

"Were you followed?" Glarthir asked.

"No," Saryn said.

"I overheard you talking to that town guard. I'm not certain if I can trust you now," Glarthir said, hesitantly.

"Nor I, you," Saryn replied. "But I am in need of work and gold, and if you have the latter, I will gladly provide the former."

Glarthir twiddled his thumbs for a moment as he leaned against the rock-wall of the chapel. "It's just that everybody thinks that I am mad."

"What's going on?" Saryn asked.

"I believe that I am being watched. For what purpose I can't yet tell, but I know that I am being watched and furthermore I know the people who are doing it," Glarthir said.

"So what do you want me to do about it," Saryn asked.

"Well naturally I want _you _to watch _them. _I believe I know the people responsible, but I cannot be sure of course. If you, an outsider were to observe them then maybe I would have a better idea," Glarthir instructed.

"And who are these?" Saryn pressed, eager to get to the bottom of this.

"Well, there is Bernadette Peneles, a young woman who lives on this side of town. Always watches me whenever I come this way and always seems to be out on her porch whenever I do so. Highly convenient if you ask me," Glarthir began. "Who else, oh yes, Toutius Sextius, always prancing about the castle. I won't even begin to tell you what he's on about. But the man who I am convinced is the ringleader of this operation is a name that I'm sure you've heard of."

"Who?"

"Davide Surillie! The famous winemaker!" Glarthir exclaimed. "I've seen him in his vineyard burying things. No doubt they are his findings on me and my doings. And furthermore he has more than enough money to buy any of the people in this town off!"

Saryn was beginning now to become very nervous about Glarthir. What he was raving about was nothing short of lunacy and she was afraid of what would happen if the town guard thought that she was in any way involved in this.

"Very well," Saryn said. "I will look into these people and see what comes of it."

"Indeed. I expect your first report tomorrow at midnight. Find out what you can in that time. We'll meet back here," Glarthir said. "I must hurry before anybody sees us together!"

He rushed off back along the city wall and in the direction of what was ostensibly his house. She decided to follow her instinct and headed back towards the watch tower where the guards slept. She saw the soldier who had warned her about Glarthir and walked right up to him.

"Aye, Bosmer," the soldier said. "Have you found something out?"

Saryn folded her arms. "First I think introductions are in order. I am _Saryn_, not just some Bosmer."

The soldier looked slightly offended, but grunted and offered his hand. "Dion. My apologies for my rudeness, but this Glarthir mess has got me on edge."

"Well I'm afraid I'm not bringing any good news," Saryn said. "And meaning no offense, but as a traveler I find myself in need of funds. What's this information worth to you?"

"Unless it will put Glarthir behind bars nothing. We'll have no way of knowing that until you tell me," Dion replied.

Saryn shrugged. "And where is a poor girl to sleep on a night like tonight. It's tough work following random people for the town guard, and I'm so tired."

She played at a yawn, even though she was no longer remotely sleepy.

Dion sighed. "I'll tell you what. We'll give you a room at the inn tonight and a meal, and if the information is good maybe more still."

"That's better," Saryn smiled. She then frowned. "Although I doubt you'll like this. Glarthir believes there is a conspiracy against him, as you already know. But he's named three person which he wants me to follow and report on."

Dion rubbed his chin. "And these names?"

"Some girl who lives near him and a castle clerk, but the name that does bother me is Davide Surillie, the winemaker," Saryn explained.

Dion shrugged. "Not much to go on, I'm afraid. And sadly not enough to lock a person away for. Being paranoid isn't a crime any more than being crazy is."

"What should I do?" Saryn asked.

"If I had my way, you'd leave town now, but I don't know what Glarthir might do," Dion fidgeted. "Perhaps we can still save him. If only we can force him to see reason, maybe he'll get better."

"You mean you want me to actually follow them?" Saryn asked.

"No need to. I can already tell you nothing is going on there, and you know it too. Course if you want to waste your day be my guest. But you should report to Glarthir that nobody was following him. He trusts you more than any of us I dare say. Maybe he'll finally realize how crazy he's been," Dion suggested.

"I only hope that will work," Saryn shrugged.

**Cheydinhal, County Hall...**

6 Hearthfire 3E433

Who would have thought that Ulrich would have been so easy to dupe? Will had been given the key to Ulrich's quarters by Garrus and while Ulrich and most of the guards were out patrolling, Will was able to get into the County Hall and into his private quarters.

Right on top of his desk was a letter that looked rather important, and a quick scan of the letter made that all the more apparent. This letter was all the proof that he would need to put Ulrich away for a long time.

It seemed that Ulrich had some relatives in a bad way, and Ulrich was just writing to tell them about how he'd be sending a great deal of money and some goods their way with the funds he'd misappropriated.

Well, of course, once this was brought to Garrus it was all over within a few hours. Garrus brought this to the attention of the Count and, despite his predisposition towards Ulrich, he had no choice but to find him guilty. Between the abuse of his post and the murder of Aldos, Ulrich would remain behind bars for a long time indeed.

When Will returned to Borba, carrying with him her portion of the refund on the wrongfully seized gold, she proved far more able (to say nothing of willing) to do business with him. After a very short lived bidding war, in which Borba showed next to none of her usual tenacity for haggling, the two celebrated their agreement with a dinner, which Garrus and Llevana both attended.

They toasted the memory of Aldos and after a great deal of food and drinking, and even song from Llevana who had a remarkably pretty voice, the tone of the evening changed to strategy.

"So, Where are you heading now?" Garrus asked.

"Continuing along my journey, I am just a merchant after all. I've got a long road. I'll be heading to Leyawin next, and then Bravil. After that I'll head to the Imperial City, Skingrad and finally back home to Anvil," Will said.

"That's quite a long road between here and Leyawin. I doubt you'll make it there in less than two days even with a cart," Borba said.

"And with these Oblivion Gates opening every which way, it's becoming more and more dangerous to attempt such a thing," Garrus said. "If I were you I would alter course. Stay as close to the Imperial City as you can."

"I suppose I could stop at Bravil first," Will said.

"That would be a much safer bet," Llevana added. "The marshlands east are very unforgiving and full of highwaymen to boot."

"That sounds like a plan then," Will nodded.

There was a knock at Borba's door. A man walked in who looked surprisingly familiar to Will. It was the old drunk who had accosted him on his way out of Chorrol.

"Ah, Guilbert, I'm glad that you could make it," Borba said.

"I'm not here to feast I'm afraid. There's been another bit of bad news," Guilbert said gravely, looking around the room.

"More bad news?" Llevana asked. "But Ulrich has been put away, hadn't you heard?"

"Aye," Guilbert replied. "So we've traded one villain for another. An Oblivion Gate has opened up just outside of town. The Knights of The Thorn are attacking the enemies and seem to be doing a decent job of holding them at bay, but the Count has ordered that none may leave the city until morning."

"My goodness. Silly thing to not allow us to flee," Llevana gasped.

"It'd do no good. Those monsters are vicious at night. They'd catch you before you even made it out of the woods," Garrus nodded. "If you all will excuse me I'd better return to my post. They'll need all the help they can get."

As Garrus opened the door to leave the sounds of panicked voices flowed in from outside. The door again shut, leaving the four in the semi-silence and slowly dying lantern light.

"And if that wasn't enough someone's gone missing too," Guilbert sighed.

"Old Rythe again?" Borba asked. "That painter chose a horrible night to go on a holiday."

"But if he's out in this mess he could be killed," Will said. "Shouldn't somebody go look for him. I mean he can't have left the city, right?"

"If you want to go take a look for him, be my guest, but I tell you it's a fools errand. The man like's his privacy, and that's all there is to it," Guilbert said.

"Speaking of privacy, I meant to ask you when you came in. Did you follow me in or do you live here?" Will asked.

"What are you talking about?" Guilbert asked.

"I saw you in Chorrol. You were a bit drunk and seemed to have a bit of a temper," Will said.

"You know you're the third person to tell me that, but as I told the other two, I've been nowhere near Chorrol. But as luck would have it, I've got business which requires me to visit Chorrol tomorrow, assuming the roads are opened. I think I'll go have a look and see who is impersonating me," Guilbert replied.

Will said nothing more. He had the distinct feeling that he'd offended Guilbert.

"Well I suppose we should go try and track down Rythe, even if it is a tad chaotic this evening," Llevana said.

She took Will's hand and they both walked out of Borba's store into the cold night air.

**The Gold Road...**

6 Hearthfire 3E433

Alessia was a tad uneasy setting out from the inn in the morning. Her job was simple: to be the bait that lured out this rogue mage. But Alessia didn't rather much enjoy being bait. If she was supposed to be training in the art of Destruction magic, wouldn't she be better suited at being the attacker.

Besides, even if you catch the fish, the bait is usually useless afterwords.

She heard a rustling in the tall grass beside her as she walked along the road. She turned only to see a small wildcat bouncing through it, trying to catch something that Alessia couldn't see.

It was over as quickly as her temporary distraction. She felt two arms reach behind her and smash against her back with the force of a lightning bolt. She fell forward and turned to face her attacker. It was a woman in a long blue robe.

"So you're the merchant who spent the night last night," the attacker said. "Well hand over all your wares and I'll make your death a relatively painless one."

Alessia tossed her satchel to the side of the road where the woman reached down to grab for it.

"Okay, I'll give you a five second head start," the rogue said. "Who knows, maybe you can outrun my lightning?"

"Very kind of you," Alessia said. She stood up and without even blinking she sent a firebolt flying towards the rogue.

She had not been expecting this and took the full brunt of the flame. She fell back on the ground in agony. Two battlemages who had been hiding nearby leapt out and pinned the rogue down. The rogue mage put up a flailing struggle and with a blast of ice from the battlemage on her left, the battle was over.

"You're quick on your feet!" The battlemage nodded approvingly. "You didn't even need our help!"

Alessia chose not to admit that her bolt of flame had been a hail mary and she had no energy for another attack.

"A shame she didn't go quietly, but by all accounts it's no loss," the other battlemage said. "You better head back to the guild. I'm sure you'll get your recommendation Associate."

Smiling to herself Alessia walked back down the road towards Anvil. She had done it. She wasn't rescued at the last minute, nor did she get a lucky blow. She had beaten the rogue mage. And there was only one more recommendation to go.

**Imperial City, Green Emperor Way...**

7 Hearthfire 3E433

Ignin, Baurus and Borin sat in the columns near the graveyard of Green Emperor Way, just outside the Imperial Palace.

"These books aren't very long, but I can't say I'm divining much knowledge from them even for that," Baurus said.

"Don't expect me to try and pick up one of those things. Aside from not being much of a reader, I don't fancy the writings of lunatics. Searching through there for some hidden meaning is a waste of time," Borin offered.

"You ever get that stuff with Thoronir worked out?" Baurus asked.

"Oh yeah. Once I put down those mangy graverobbers who were supplying him with his stuff and told him all about it, he agreed right away to join that little Society of Jensine's. I guess all's well that ends well," Borin grunted.

"Would you two mind?" Ignin snapped impatiently. "This is dull work enough without the chatter. I can't see anything in these books that points to the location of the Shrine."

"You're not going to. We've been pouring through all four books and nothings in them," Baurus said. "We'll have to find another way of getting into the Mythic Dawn. Maybe we should head back to the sewers where we met the Sponsor, maybe there's something in there."

"Maybe it's not in the books themselves, but something that's revealed when all the books are together," Ignin said. "Let me see the other volumes."

Baurus and Borin exchanged a skeptical look but handed Ignin the other two volumes. Ignin flipped through all the pages of each book and something slowly dawned on him.

"No, it couldn't be," Ignin said. "Could it really be that simple?"

"What's that?" Borin asked.

"You found something?" Baurus added.

"The starting letter of each page is ornamental, written in calligraphy. This is, of course, a common practice, but when we put all of these letters together..." Ignin tore a blank page from the binding of the first volume and picked up a piece of charcoal from the nearby grave. "G...R...E...E...N..."

"Green?" Borin asked.

"Hold on, I'm not done just yet," Ignin said.

Ignin went on in this manner for a few minutes until finally he had deciphered the hidden message in the books.

"Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun?" Baurus asked. "Well I get the Green Emperor Way part, of course, but that second half I have no idea."

"It's nearly noon," Borin said. "Let's just go find the spot where we can see both the tip of the tower and the noon sun."

Because of the various arches and walls, not to speak of the crenelations and imperfections of White Gold Tower, this was slight trickier than expected. But, before long they found a spot. It was a large domed headstone which marked the tomb of Prince Carahil. And as the nearby temple bells chimed noon an inscription lit up blood red.

"That's a map!" Baurus exclaimed. "That's a map of Cyrodiil with the location of the Shrine marked in that red cross there!"

"They must not care too much for security if they leave it out in the open like this," Borin grunted.

"Yes, but think about it. Anybody else coming across it would have no idea what it meant. It could be the spot where Prince Carahil died, or the site of some famous battle from his era. Without the books they wouldn't understand what it meant," Ignin said.

"Alright," Baurus began. "It's time to head back to Cloud Ruler Temple. Borin, would you care to jon us. The Blades could use a hand."

Borin shook his head. "I've made a commitment to the Arena. But any time you're in the Imperial City, I'm always happy to help."

And with that, the three friends parted, Ignin and Baurus heading towards Bruma and Borin heading back to the Bloodworks.

**Chorrol, Francois Motierre's Residence...**

7 Hearthfire 3E433

Of all the assignments that would follow, and all those he'd done before, Azeg-Rael would look back upon this task as the one that he liked the least. Vicente had praised his work on Valen Dreth, but in reward it seemed he would be given a contract which would prevent his Blade of Woe from being useful yet again.

"Your assignment is not to kill, but only to pretend to kill," Vicente explained. "It's a bit of an odd request, but we've been hired to stage an assassination."

"That's not really our usual business, is it?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"Of course it isn't, but that is precisely why we are the right people for this. And a contract is a contract. And, if truth be told, I've come to rely on your skill," Vicente said.

Azeg-Rael folded his arms. He knew that under the Five Tenets he could not refuse any contract, but Vicente almost seemed to be asking him a favor.

"What is the assignment?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"A man in Chorrol named Francois Motierre is deep in debt. He owes money to the wrong kind of people, and they've sent an enforcer to deal with him," Vicente said.

"With the money he is paying us, you would think he could pay off his debt," Azeg-Rael shrugged.

"Yes, but the fact of the matter is they now say that it is no longer about the money. By not paying them back on time they claim that Motierre 'insulted' them. They mean to kill him no matter what," Vicente said. "Your contract is to pretend to kill Motierre with a poison that will simulate death. Then after he has been laid to rest in the Chapel Undercroft, you will revive him with the antidote and escort him out of the city."

"What can you tell me about the enforcer they are sending?" Azeg-Rael asked.

"He is known as Hides-His-Heart. Be warned, you are not to kill the enforcer. This is where things get tricky. Hides-His-Heart must see you 'kill' Motierre and you must not kill him. He will need to report back to his master," Vicente explained. "As I said it is an unusual contract, but I am confident in your abilities."

"Moreso than I it would seem," Azeg-Rael replied, folding his arms. "But I will obey of course."

And so this miserable night Azeg-Rael found himself in Chorrol at Francois's frankly embarrassingly opulent house. How he could not afford to pay his debts back on time when he lived in such splendor was a mystery to Azeg-Rael and he was almost certain that he would take such a lapse in repayment as an insult as well.

"So," Motierre began nervously. He was a small man with dark hair and beady little eyes. He looked like the coward he undoubtedly was. "You're the... err... assassin..."

"We don't have all day, by Sithis. That enforcer is not too far behind me or so it would seem," Azeg-Rael said.

"Right," Motierre nodded. "Here is the dagger you should use."

Motierre handed Azeg-Rael a very sharp dagger tipped in poison.

"Stab my back and be mindful not to hit my lungs or no antidote will bring me back," Motierre explained.

"It will be quite painful," Azeg-Rael said.

"Less painful than death I am sure," Motierre replied.

As if on queue there was a quiet knocking at the door.

"Oh, Motierre..." a sing-song voice outside called. "You've been late with your payments my friend."

The door opened with little effort and an Argonian (undoubtedly Hides-His-Heart) walked in. Azeg-Rael wasted no time in stabbing Motierre in the back. He gasped and fell forward, dead.

"You're late," Azeg-Rael said coolly to Hides-His-Heart.

"That was my kill," Hides-His-Heart said calmly. "It isn't nice to steal from people."

"Next time, be punctual," Azeg-Rael said walking towards the door.

Hides-His-Heart put his dagger up to the back of Azeg-Rael's neck. "I could settle for killing one of the Dark Brotherhood. That would make quite an impressive addition to my collection."

Azeg-Rael turned. He could kill this obnoxious fool in a second, but his orders were to leave him alive. "Go tell your master that somebody else wanted Motierre dead. That his debt is considered paid. And that if his vermin ever insults a member of the Dark Brotherhood again you will all meet with a fate far worse than a simple death."

"You think that I am afraid of you?" Hides-His-Heart asked.

Azeg-Rael moved quickly, bending Hides-His-Heart's wrist and snapping it instantly. The dagger fell out of his hand. With a kick he knocked Hides-His-Heart back against the wall. Azeg-Rael picked up the dagger and threw it down, sticking into the end of Hides-His-Heart's tail. Hides-His-Heart let out a terrible scream, which was silenced when Azeg-Rael stuck his Blade of Woe at Hides-His-Heart's neck.

"I think so. I will let you live for now out of professional courtesy. Do not trifle with me again," Azeg-Rael said. And he stood up and left the house.

That went about as good as it could have for there not being a murder, now he was tasked with wating until Motierre was discovered and moved to the Undercroft. As this wait would undoubtedly take some time, he made his way to the Grey Mare and ordered a drink with the gold he had pick-pocketed from Hides-His-Heart.

**Chorrol, Fighter's Guild...**

7 Hearthfire 3E433

Back in Chorrol, Davion was reporting to Modryn about Maglir's defaulted contract. Maglir had chosen to leave out some of the details, and simply reported that he had met Maglir who had tried to complete the contract, but was unable to without assistance. He figured this would be the honorable thing to do, and it seemed to please Modryn.

"Well I suppose there is no harm in needing some help. But he should have let us know that he needed assistance," Modryn said. "After you've gotten some rest I was hoping I could count on your assistance in another matter?"

"Sure," Davion nodded, having slowly gotten used to the constant flow of work in the Fighter's Guild.

"I need you to head to Leyawin and take care of some drunkards who have been causing trouble for the Guild. Giving us a bad name. We don't tolerate our members breaking the law," Modryn said.

"Just tell them to stop?" Davion asked.

"Yes. If they cause trouble you can round up some of our local members to help you, but they're usually reasonable. I think they're just bored. Not a lot of work near Leyawin," Modryn explained.

"The Niben Bay?" Davion said. "I would think with all the bandits there'd be plenty of work."

"There is, but the Blackwood Company takes all there work. If you haven't heard about them, don't worry, you soon will," Modryn said. "But anyways. Rest now and head out tomorrow. You should be able to make it to Leyawin by the 10th."

**Shrine of Hircine...**

7 Hearthfire 3E433

As carrying around a wide assortment of weapons, particularly Volendrung, was nothing short of chore, Cierra decided to find somewhat permanent lodgings in the Imperial City. The Imperial Waterfront had a selection of very cheap homes and her limited bankroll made it difficult to find lodgings anywhere else. On her way to the Imperial City from Leyawin, she came across the shrine of Hircine, where the worshippers advised her to pay tribute by offering the pelt of an animal.

When she offered a wolf pelt to the shrine of Hircine, daedric prince of the hunt, Cierra did not expect the task that was beset upon her. The worshippers were all experienced woodsmen and, afterall he _was _the god of the hunt. So the task would undoubtedly be to slay some vicious beast or terrible creature or dangerous game.

That was what she expected at any rate.

_Summoned by prey. _

_The hare crouches before the fox's muzzle. _

_Perhaps I shall task you, mortal. _

_Set you to hunt for my amusement. _

_In Harcane Grove is a quarry worthy of the chase. _

_First named, last tamed, the unicorn runs wild there. _

_Bring me this creature's horn, mortal. If you dare_

Cierra felt uncertain in this task, but proceeded to Harcane Grove to see none other than the quarry she'd been set to kill. A creature of magnificent beauty, with the strong body of a white horse, but with a dazzling crystalline horn in the center of its forehead. The pure white hairs of its mane seemed to shimmer like snow beneath the moonlight and it's deep blue eyes - which even at a distance Cierra could see clearly- reflected the vast pools of inner wisdom.

How could she kill this creature? This being of such purity and beauty. Of all the tasks she'd followed, this was the hardest. But she had devoted herself to learning the wisdom of all the Daedric Princes, save Mehrunes Dagon for whom she refused to join the cult that killed the Emperor. Steeling herself, and gripping her short sword, she walked towards the unicorn.

The unicorn looked at her and seemed to sense her evil intentions. It kicked its legs against the dirt in warning, but Cierra could not stop now. The unicorn charged at her and Cierra sliced at the beast, rending a deep cut in its flesh.

It was only at that moment that Ciera realized that the unicorn was not alone. Three large minotaurs rushed at her from behind the trees as the unicorn neighed in pain. Cierra only just dodged a fierce swipe from one of the Minotaur's hammers. Cierra grabbed her dagger and threw it at the beast and it stuck in his chest.

"One down," Cierra sighed. But the two were still advancing and the unicorn, while wounded, seemed gearing up for another charge.

And then she remembered the Wabbajack. Didn't Sheogorath say that she would be using that gift very soon?

Trusting to fortune she raised the staff off of her back, being careful not to drop Volendrung and jabbed it at the second Minotaur.

He turned into a chicken.

Cierra almost burst out laughing when the third minotaur came charging. She trusted to the fate of the Wabbajack again, and the minotaur transformed into a toadstool.

The unicorn now stood looking at the remnants of her three guardians and then bowed to Cierra. She had, apparently, lost the will to fight. Cierra approached the unicorn but looked down at her. She could not do it. She could not kill this creature.

But an idea came to her. She picked a pebble off the ground and tapped at it with the Wabbajack. Perhaps she had won Sheogorath's favor, or perhaps she was just lucky, but it turned into a perfect replica of the unicorn's horn.

_I will not forget your kindness_, the unicorn spoke it ins tongue. Somehow Cierra was able to understand. She nodded to the unicorn and turned away, leaving the unicorn to tend her wounds.

Hircine was not able to tell the difference between the fake horn and the genuine article, which Cierra felt somewhat odd for a Daedric Prince.

_Yes, hunter, make your offering. _

_Did you taste its flesh and drink its blood? _

_Never waste the spoils of a kill. _

_You've pleased me, hunter. _

_Take my token, and wear it well. _

_Hereafter, take your prey, and whisper my name._

Cierra's armor was replaced with a hide made of exotic animals. This was the legendary Saviour's Hide, the armor of the god of the hunt. Admiring her latest trophy, she head back towards the Imperial City.

**Imperial City Waterfront...**

8 Hearthfire 3E433

"You should have seen it," R'darra smiled to Methredel. "A messenger from the University came and practically demanded to return the soldiers defending the place. I've never seen Lex so embarassed!"

"Well it seems he's leaving the Waterfront alone for right now. Armand will be pleased, as will the Gray Fox," Methredel said. "I'll get somebody to return the Archmage's Staff, you should head back to Bravil for more work."

"But wait a moment," R'darra said. "What about Lex? This won't stop him for good."

"The Gray Fox is planning something that will take care of Lex for good, in the mean time, he just wants us to go about our business as usual," Methredel explained.

"Excuse me," came the voice of a young Dunmer woman.

R'darra and Methredel looked up and saw the woman covered in a strange armor made of exotic animal hides and wielding an impressive assortment of unusual weapons.

"Uh, can we help you?" Methredel asked uncertainly.

"I am looking for a home here on the waterfront," the woman said. "My name is Cierra. I don't need much, just a simple shack will do. Do you know where I can go to purchase one?"

R'darra grinned. "Well I know of somebody who no longer needs their shack."

Methredel smiled back. "No, I daresay she won't need it at all. Come with us, we'll get you set up."

**Skingrad, Behind the Chapel...**

8 Hearthfire 3E433

Saryn's report to Glarthir did not go at all like Dion or her had intended.

"So were any of them following me?" He asked.

"Well I examined them all. First I examined that woman. I have to be honest, she did not seem to be watching you at all," Saryn explained.

Glarthir seemed slightly alarmed, but then he seemed to calm down for a moment.

"Well... I suppose that might have been a mistake. I've been a bit wound up, of course. But Toutius! What about Toutius?" Glarthir asked.

"I followed him around midday. Still nothing. Even checked his personal quarters. The only thing mentioning you was a note from the guards about a recent arrest," Saryn explained.

Glarthir now seemed truly distressed and began mumbling something. Saryn only caught words such as "price" and "betrayal". He then looked at her.

"Davide Surrilie? The ringleader. Tell me about him!"

Saryn simply shook her head. "I'm sorry, Glarthir. Nobody was following you."

Glarthir stopped and folded his arms. He was very quiet for a moment.

"Please Glarthir. You're not well. You're so convinced there is a plot against you that you won't ever be happy. Please let us help you," Saryn said.

This was the wrong thing to say. At once Glarthir leapt at Saryn revealing a hidden dagger and lunged at her. The guards sprung out from their hiding places near the chapel and Saryn quickly disarmed Glarthir.

"Stop this now, Glarthir!" Dion shouted. "That's enough! We are taking you in until you have calmed yourself!"

"Never!" Glarthir screamed, and in a bolt he leapt clear over the stone wall to the chapel cemetery and ran towards his house.

Saryn and the guards chased after him but he slammed his door shut. Just as Dion was preparing to break the door in, Glarthir leapt out from the second floor window with an enormous battleaxe, striking down one of the guards.

Bernadette just happened to be walking by as this happened. Glarthir saw her and rushed at her with the axe. Without a second thought, Saryn rose her bow and fired an arrow straight in Glarthir's back. He dropped his battle axe and turned to Saryn.

"You betrayed me too," Glarthir said. "I can't... trust anybody..."

And he fell over, dead.

Dion put his hand on Saryn's shoulder while a female guard went over to comfort Bernadette who was now sobbing. Two of the other guards helped up the one who had been stricken, but he was in a bad way.

"Captain. He'll need a healer!" The guard said.

"Take him back to County Hall. I'll be with you all in a moment," Dion said.

Saryn looked at Dion. "Am I to be arrested for murder?"

Dion shook his head. "If it were in my power I'd give you a medal or heroism."

"Well, I guess I'd take another night at the inn. And if you can spare it, a horse. I've decided to travel to Bravil next," Saryn said.

"A horse it is. Be mindful on the roads. These damned Oblivion Gates keep opening up almost everywhere," Dion warned.

"Don't worry," Saryn nodded. "I think by now I've seen everything."

**Cloud Ruler Temple**

9 Hearthfire 3E433

Back at Cloud Ruler Temple, Martin, Jauffre, Ignin and Baurus stood in the Great Hall discussing their findings.

"That map you found points to a lake not far from here. It's just a few hours on horseback east of here," Jauffre said.

"We might be able to besiege the cavern. I'm sure I could round up at least a hundred men from the Imperial Forces," Baurus suggested.

"And where would that get us? That is only one entrance to the cavern and these mountain cavern systems usually have at least one back door. Not to mention the fact that we do not want to push these men into desperation. Who knows what they would do to the Amulet of Kings," Martin explained.

"I agree with Martin," Ignin nodded. "It seems like subterfuge is the safer course of action here."

"That won't be enough either," came a voice from the entrance.

A tall and fair Altmer woman walked into the Great Hall. Two eager Blades were rushing in after her.

"Don't listen to this woman!" the first Blade shouted.

"She's a vampire! She forced her way in when we barred her path!" the second said.

The Altmer turned back to the Blades and her eyes glowed brightly red. "As I told you, I had an urgent warning which I would give only to the Emperor. You ignored me, so I chose to ignore you."

She turned back to Martin and the others. "I am a vampire. If that means that my words will fall upon death ears then so be it."

Baurus and Ignin were reaching for their weapons, but Jauffre and Martin stayed them.

"Who are you and what news bears you here?" Martin asked.

The Altmer grinned. "That's better. I come to warn you that more Oblivion Gates are opening all over your countryside. I come to offer my assistance in helping you protect your empire. And as for my name, you may call me Aywin."


	9. Chapter 9: Defending The Empire

Chapter 9: Defending The Empire

Frostcrag Spire...**  
**24 Frost Fall, 4E21

Aywin pulled out a map of Cyrodiil which had been marked with red ink. Just a short distance from the gate to each town was the marking of an Oblivion Gate.

"Nine cities. Eight truly, as Kvatch was destroyed," Aywin said. "Each city had just enough support from the Imperial Legion and their own troops to defend their cities. But they had no forces to spare for any sort of counter-attack."

"But if the tales are true, there was an alliance that marched on the Great Gate near Bruma," The Khajitt said.

"There was. In order for the forces to be properly mustered, these Gates would need to be shut first," Aywin said. "At this point, only a few had sprung up. The one near Cheydinhal and the other near Bruma. But before too long, every city in the Imperium would find themselves under attack."

"But the Gates opened up in other parts of Tamriel," The Breton said. "Solstheim, Skyrim, Morrowind…"

"And the forces would have to make do without any aide. With no ruler and the resources of the empire spread so thin, sending help would just be a waste of resources," Aywin explained. "With the knowledge that our meager forces would have to take control of this situation, we adjusted our strategy as needed to meet the rising threat."

"There is growing concern in Skyrim especially because of the lack of Imperial aide," The Khajitt said.

"They forget that it was our actions in Cyrodiil that ended the Oblivion Crisis," Aywin replied.

Cheydinhal, County Hall...  
6 Hearthfire 3E433

Missing was a relative term. The painter Rythe had not gone missing. He had muddled with something that he shouldn't and was currently paying the price. Unfortunately, so was Will.

Rythe was not just any painter, but he was rather a gifted painter. His wife Tivela married him because of his genius with the work. Every painting of his went beyond mere paintings. They seemed to come alive, as though each of his painting was really another world.

And, in truth, that was a perfectly accurate description.

"A magical paintbrush?" Will asked Rythe when he found him.

"Yes," Rythe said. "I use it whenever I paint. It allows me to… well, do this."

Will looked around at the painted world around the two of them. They were, both of them, now trapped in his painting.

"I came here to rescue you, so how do we get out?" Will asked.

"Well a thief stole it. One of those damned trolls grabbed it. If we don't get it back soon we'll never get out of here," Rythe sighed.

Making a mental note to never again closely investigate a disappearance, as so far it had only brought him trouble, he wandered through the painted forest. Grudgingly appreciating the level of depth and clarity with which Rythe had painted the world, making it easy to make out his surroundings, he spotted a large painted troll, carrying the cursed thing that had gotten him into this mess.

The troll had caught on to Will's presence and began to attack. Will slammed his mace into the troll and it merely bounced off his painted flesh.

"Well, that didn't work," Will grunted as he leapt out of the way of one of the trolls jabs. "Painting, huh? Hey buddy, you look like you might be a good customer of mine."

The troll turned and howled.

"Here. Try a bit of my finest turpentine," Will yelled, pulling a bottle out of his satchel and throwing it onto the troll.

In a terrible shriek the troll melted, leaving behind a smear of white canvas on the spot where he died.

"And I thought there was no market in the artistic community," Will chuckled, picking up the magical brush and returning to Rythe.

Chorrol, Mage's Guild...  
7 Hearthfire 3E433

The last lap of her pilgrimage had been more than enough of an adventure for Alessia. Only now was she starting to realize why so few in number were able to complete the journey. On three separate occasions she had nearly been killed, not counting minor incidents on the road, which she was at least prepared for.

The Chorrol Mage's Guild was headed by an Argonian fellow who seemed to not have any time to waste of the likes of Alessia. This was not at all different from how she was treated in Cheydinhal and Anvil, and was beginning to wonder if the guild truly cared about new mages at all.

Perhaps so many of them perished on the journey that nobody grew too attached until they proved themselves.

Teekeeus, as the chapter head was called, folded his arms at the very sight of her.

"Let me guess. You are looking for a recommendation," Teekeeus sighed. "I'm sorry but I really haven't time to waste on amateurs at the moment."

"Amateurs?" Alessia scoffed.

"Yes, little children who like to play at magic. I have a serious crisis right now and I've no time-"

"Listen to me," Alessia said, somewhat surprised at her own nerve. "You are the last recommendation that I require to gain access to the Arcane University. I have slain the bandit on the gold road, fought off a horde of marauders with some help in Fort Blueblood and have solved more complex magical concerns that I believe a mere officiator like yourself could have expected. I am no amateur."

Alessia was expecting Teekeeus to be angry, but apparently in Argonian culture, such boasting was the only way to get anything done.

"Really?" Teekeeus nodded. "Well perhaps you will be of some use to me after all."

"For a recommendation."

"Of course," Teekeeus replied. "There has been a woman pestering me for some time now, named Earana. I want you to find out why she has come here and report back to me."

"She didn't say?"

"She does not speak with me. Her mere presence disturbs me," Teekeeus replied.

"So if I find out what she wants, you will help me?"

"I expect you to complete the matter. But if so, then yes. Be careful. Earana is a former member of the guild, excommunicated for her roguish ways."

"That will not be a concern."

Finding Earana was not the chore that Alessia had been anticipating. She was, in fact, sitting on a bench just outside the Mage's Guild, reading from a tome. Alessia could tell at once that this was the person whom Teekeeus was referring to. She wore stitched robes that seemed to have recently been removed of their Mage's Guild insignia.

"You must be Earana," Alessia said.

Earana did not bother to look up from her book. Alessia was growing rather tired of being ignored. "Teekeeus can't handle his own work these days?"

"You might say that," Alessia shrugged. "He wants to know why you are here."

"Well, naturally, I'll reveal everything then," Earana smirked, still not bothering to look up from her book.

Alessia decided that she, too, had no time for amateurs. In her mind she felt the force of a boulder, its strength, its weight, its impenetrability. Weight is relative to gravity, and gravity like any force of nature can be fluctuated, especially to the magically literate. With a sudden thud, the book fell out of Earana's hands, and when she tried to pick it back up, it suddenly weighed as much as the great stone inside Alessia's head.

"I like your attitude," Earana shrugged. She then simply raised her hand over the book and within moments it floated back into her hands. "But you're still a novice."

"I'm just here to get my last recommendation, I don't want to waste any more time with you either," Alessia insisted.

"Then don't. Why join the Mage's Guild anyways? They have such fierce restrictions and don't truly appreciate the art of magic, except that which they can regulate and confine," Earana said.

"Would you suggest I learn from you instead?" Alessia asked.

"You could do worse," Earana replied callously.

"Very well then. Enlighten me," Alessia replied.

Earana closed her book and rubbed her eyes. "You really won't go away until I tell you what I'm up to will you?"

"I'm afraid not," Alessia shook her head.

Earana rolled her eyes. "Very well. I won't get anything accomplished with Teekeeus having me followed by his lapdogs anyways. I've discovered the location of a very powerful Spell Tome and was going to study more into it."

"What is this Tome?" Alessia asked.

"It documents a powerful lightning spell called the Fingers of the Mountain. Last I heard the book was in the possession of a traveler who, for some reason, took it up to Cloud Top," Earana pointed up to the summit of the mountain, visible even over the high walls of the North Gate. "Bring the book back to your precious Teekeeus and earn your recommendation, or return it to me, and you can learn a thing about true power."

Earana picked up her book and walked down the road towards the Gray Mare. Alessia returned to the Teekeeus and explained what she had discovered.

"Fingers of the Mountain," Teekeeus shrugged. "I should have known."

"What is it?"

"As Earana said, it is a very powerful lightning spell. It has been sealed away for good reason. In the hands of an amateur mage it would bring only disaster."

"Respectfully, Earana did not seem like an amateur to me," Alessia replied.

"You don't understand, girl," Teekeeus said. "Even the Arch Mage would think twice about attempting to use such a spell. Indeed Cloud Top is a ruin because the Mage who created the spell cast it without the proper focus and… well the rest is history as they say."

"So what should I do?"

"Even Earana has her limits of patience. She will try to obtain the book first, I am sure of it. She has been preparing herself for the journey no doubt. If you want to earn your recommendation, you must go to Cloud Top and recover that spell tome."

"I thought my task was merely to inform on Earana to you," Alessia scowled.

"I said you would be expected to see it through to completion. Besides, you say you have proven yourself to be no amateur, so the journey to Cloud Top should be nothing," Teekeeus smirked.

Alessia held her finger up to Teekeeus. "Fine. But I don't hand you the book until you turn in my recommendation."

"I will be writing it as we speak. If you return alive, I will be sure to send it on its way to the Imperial City," Teekeeus said.

Imperial City, Arena...  
7 Hearthfire 3E433

Back at his usual profession, Borin had fought hard over the past days and had attained the rank of Bloodletter. He found himself growing quite comfortable with the matches. He did not feel any better about ending lives, although the enemy combatants fierce attempts at his life did make it a bit easier for him.

His current opponent was a rather irritating Breton wielding a dagger and sending magical attacks whizzing past his head.

"You think your spells are gonna do you any good?" Borin shouted as he rushed around the pillars on the side moving in to get a good blow with his hammer.

Lightning shattered the pillar just above his head and he ducked down to avoid the falling rock. The Breton stopped hurling his spells. This was Borin's opportunity. He rushed in and sent a clean strike into the man's chest. He fell back against the side of the arena wall, dead.

Owyn handed him his payment that evening as they sat down in the mess hall.

"You're doing better than I thought kid," Owyn grudgingly admitted. "But don't get cocky. The fights are only gonna get tougher from here on out."

"Eh, I have faith in the kid," said the Gray Prince patting Borin on the shoulder. "He handles a hammer better than most I've seen. Even amongst other Orcs."

"Years of experience is all," Borin shrugged, biting into a large slab of venison.

"Maybe you'll take on the Gray Prince someday," Owyn remarked casually.

"Yeah," Borin chuckled darkly. "Maybe when I want my head cut off."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," The Gray Prince exclaimed jovially. "It's true, but I'm sure you'd hold your own."

Borin and Owyn laughed.

Chorrol, Chapel Undercroft...  
7 Hearthfire 3E433

Azeg-Rael returned that evening to the Chapel Undercroft where Motierre awaited. Leaning down beside the "dead" body before him, he applied the antidote that he'd been given to awaken Motierre. It took a bit longer than Azeg-Rael would have liked, but after a tense twenty minutes, the man slowly awoke.

"By Sithis," Azeg-Rael cursed. "Hurry up won't you? I wish to be rid of you."

"I'm sorry," Motierre said. "Coming back to life is quite an unusual experience. Which reminds me. There was something I may have forgotten to mention."

"And that is?"

"My ancestors will view my 'revival' as a desecration of our tomb. This Undercroft is… well quite haunted, you see," Motierre's eyes grew wide as he looked over Azeg-Rael's shoulder. "Oh my! Aunt Margaret!"

Azeg-Rael turned quickly and saw the reanimated corpse of a woman. He quickly dug his dagger into her head and kicked her over.

"Come with me!" Azeg-Rael insisted.

Two more Motierre zombies were blocking their path out. Motierre picked up a nearby torch and began wildly swinging it as Azeg-Rael moved in to dispatch the first.

"Uncle Ben! You're looking worse for wear," Motierre said stupidly while flailing the torch trying to fend him off.

Azeg-Rael thrust the Blade of Woe into the back of "Uncle Ben's" head and then scowled. "Hurry up, fool, before I leave you here!" The two rushed out of the Undercroft and into the streets of Chorrol.

They stopped running only when they arrived at the Gray Mare. They looked behind them just to confirm that they were not being chased by undead hordes, and then stopped to catch their breath.

"Okay," Motierre said. "I should be able to find safe passage from here."

"Where will you go?"

"Somewhere far from Black Marsh, I can assure you of that much."

Imperial City Waterfront...  
8 Hearthfire 3E433

Cierra, Methredel and R'darra walked over to the now abandoned shack on the waterfront. Cierra looked around the place for a moment.

"And you say the previous owner no longer needs this residence?" Cierra asked.

"She's found," Methredel smirked. "Permanent accommodations."

Cierra shrugged. "Furnishings included?"

"Of course," Methredel nodded.

"How much?" Cierra asked.

"2,000," Methredel said.

Cierra set down her various artifacts and opened her satchel. She began counting out her septims. "I seem to be a bit short on funds."

R'darra walked over to her. "How much do you have?"

Cierra pointed to the coins. "Only about 800."

"Hmm," Methredel sighed. "Well that won't do at all. We can't just go giving away houses."

"Perhaps one of these artifacts you are carrying will fetch a handsome price?" R'darra suggested, running her hands along Azura's Star.

"No," Cierra said.

"Well then we may not be able to strike a deal," R'darra said.

"Wait a moment," Methredel said, examining the Skeleton Key. "Is that the _Skeleton Key?_"

"Indeed," Cierra nodded. "Won from Nocturnal herself."

"Well then perhaps we can make an arrangement after all," Methredel said.

"I do not intend to give you the Skeleton Key."

"No, no, not give. Just, perhaps, should we require it, you would loan it to us?" Methredel offered.

Cierra smirked. "Thieve's Guild. Of course."

Methredel nodded.

"I've no objection to that arrangement. I trust my other belongings will remain safe?"

"With this arrangement you would be under the protection of the Thieve's Guild. We don't steal from our own," Methredel promised.

"Very well. It is acceptable. Let me know if you should need it," Cierra put her gold back into her satchel and handed it to Methredel.

"No need," Methredel said. "With your generous partnership I should think we will earn back our gold in no time."

Chorrol, The Grey Mare  
9 Hearthfire 3E433

Saryn had her fill of Skingrad and decided it was time to move on. While her initial plans were to head south and look for work, she decided it would be better for her to move north to Bruma as there was word spreading that the Imperial Forces were preparing a counter-attack against the threat of the Oblivion Gates. She wondered if she would see Ignin again.

She stopped in Chorrol's Grey Mare for the night to catch a rare bit of rest, and when she awoke the next morning, she was delayed yet again in her journeys. An old man in the pub was drinking faster than even some of the drunkards who were still awake from the night before, and his hands were shaking with nerves. Unable to see a man in such distress and not try to help, she sat down beside him.

"Are you alright?" Saryn asked.

The man hiccupped. "No, I am not. I'm sorry, but I don't want to trouble you with my burdens."

"Your burdens are my business," Saryn said, sitting up straight and extending her hand. "Saryn."

"Valus Odiil," the man said, shakily taking her hand.

"Well, what's this problem?" Saryn asked.

"My boys. We run a farm just on the outskirts of town. But recently its been under attack by a roaming pack of goblins. My two sons left about an hour ago to try and fight them off, but I am too old to wield a weapon," he said. "I fear they will lose their lives over our silly little farm, but they insisted on fighting."

"Do you have 50 septims?" Saryn asked.

"Beg pardon?"

"I need travel money, and you need a competent warrior. Know that if you don't have enough gold, we can negotiate a reward later," Saryn said kindly.

"I haven't any gold on me now. I suppose I could sell my old mace. I can't lift the thing anyways," Valus said.

"So be it. I'll return with your sons and your farm," Saryn said calmly.

"You mean it?" Valus asked.

"Of course," Saryn nodded. "I'll expect payment upon my return."

With that, Saryn rushed out of the Mare and through the front gate of Chorrol. With her speed and knowledge of the surrounding woods, it only took her an hour to find the farm. The two young men who must have been Valus's sons were valiantly holding a horde of some fifteen goblins at bay with their swordsmanship.

Saryn was not much for close-fighting, and pulled out her bow. She took down two goblins with as many arrows in a quick volley before moving closer to get a better view. She leapt on top of the farmhouse and loaded another arrow.

"Who are you?" Asked one of the brothers.

"On your side," Saryn replied as another of her arrows struck down a goblin.

While a pack of goblins can be a devastating thing to novices or travelers, the three warriors on the field that day were two experienced swordsman and a professional archer. The goblins had no chance, but they were not alone. As the last of the goblins retreated, a large wild Ogre stormed onto the field.

"Gods!" The first brother shouted.

"Keep your distance! Your swords won't pierce his skin!" Saryn shouted.

Indeed with one large swipe of his palm, the Ogre shattered the second brothers flimsy iron sword to pieces. The two men rushed back against the borders of the farm and the first drew his own bow.

"Aim for his neck, mouth and eyes!" Saryn said. "They're the only weak points on something this massive!"

"Aim for his what?!" The brother shouted. "How can we hit that?"

He rolled out of the way of one of the Ogre's massive footfalls.

"Like this," Saryn whispered as her first arrow flew, digging itself deep into the back of the Ogre's neck.

The Ogre turned Saryn, giving her all the time she needed as he rushed towards her. With one final shot, her arrow pierced the monster's left eye, and it collapsed in an enormous heap.

"That was incredible!" The second brother exclaimed.

"You all weren't bad yourselves," Saryn said. "Now come. Your father owes me some money."

Cloud Ruler Temple  
9 Hearthfire 3E433

"More Oblivion Gates?" Jauffre asked.

"Yes. They are scattered about at the moment though. Aimless, without focus. I fear before too long the enemy will begin directly attacking the towns," Aywin explained.

"I agree," Martin nodded. "What would you have us do?"

Aywin pulled out her own map of Cyrodiil and reached for a quick. She pulled out a bottle of red ink and began scribbling furiously upon it.

"They will want to prevent us from forming a reasonable counter-attack. With Kvatch destroyed, we can assume at any moment now they will launch at strike on the eight cities that remain. The attacks will doubtless be very close to one another if not simultaneous."

"Preventing us from mustering forces. We would be stuck on the defensive," Ignin said.

"Precisely," Aywin said. "But there is a way around this. We've already seen that these Gates can be closed. So as they come up, we will need to shut them down."

"I cannot be everywhere at once," Ignin said.

"You don't have to shut them down yourself, silly boy," Aywin said. "We simply need to instruct the soldiers of the town how to deal with these gates as they pop up. And I will be making my way around to these cities to tend to their gates as needed. As a Vampire, I have certain abilities which you mortals lack."

"Very well," Martin said. "Ignin, please continue to the Mythic Dawn Sanctuary and recover the Amulet of Kings. Aywin, help prepare our soldiers for a counter-attack."

"I'll start here in Bruma and make the rounds as needed," Aywin nodded, heading out of the room, past the two soldiers who had tried to bar her entrance with a bit of a smug expression.

"Baurus, keep the Blades on high alert, and prepare them to aid Bruma at a moment's notice," Jauffre said. "But our first priority is Martin."

"Of course," Baurus nodded.

Jauffre turned to Ignin. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"It's our only chance," Ignin nodded.


End file.
